


The Wrong Road

by MariaLujan



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 53,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23728135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaLujan/pseuds/MariaLujan
Summary: She took a deep breath and forced herself to say the words she thought several times and refused to say.“I want the divorce.”He stood up slowly, still looking at her.“What did you say?!”“What you heard. I want to divorce from you.”
Relationships: Bernadette | Shelagh Turner/Patrick Turner
Comments: 80
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know that all of you are going to hate me for this, but this is something that I have in my head for a long time and the truth is that I didn't want to write it because it is difficult. But I like challenges and complicated things, so here we are.  
> Some of you may not like the theme of this new story so I don't blame you. Please, if you are going to comment don't be rude, I have other more beautiful things to read if you want.  
> This story is already fully written, it won't take many chapters, so I'll try to update often.  
> As always, English is not my language so sorry if you see something that is not correct.

_March 1975_

Shelagh blinked at the advertisement in the newspaper. It was a bit silly, but if she thought about it, absolutely necessary. Who was in charge of drawing and painting Christmas cards, holiday postcards, birthday greetings? She had never thought of it.

Now before her eyes was the announcement. A "major printing press" needed illustrators. Those interested should send a folder with proposals and data. If the printing press liked it, there was job. They didn't pay much, but it wasn't too bad either

She thought of Angela, the family artist was perfecting her strokes at a speed worthy of someone very talented, but she was not yet of legal age, and here it was specified that they must be “people over 21 years of age, and without age limit” .

She ran her eyes through the cold empty kitchen. On a chair, there was Angela's box of colored pencils, they were the ones she used the most although she had dozens of them, in all the colors that the human eye was able to distinguish.

Without much thought, Shelagh went to work. She took the pencil box and an abandoned notebook from Teddy that he used to do homework erasers or to tear out pieces and make balls of paper to tease his sisters.

She began to draw the first thing that came to mind, with an ease and speed that she thought she had forgotten after so many years.

The work resulted in a somewhat awkward example from her own garden but not inconsiderable. She was proud of both: the drawing and the garden, and she could dedicate more time to both of them now that her children were grown up and she had been away from work for months.

She began to plan what times she could sharpen her drawing skills, and how long she could have a finished folder to send. Lately she had so many free hours, that if she used them all, her drawings would be ready in a week. She didn't think they would take her, and she didn't need the money either, but it didn't hurt, not when her daughters were about to start the university, and Tim still worked at the hospital for most of the month without pay.

She smiled, if she tried hard, she would make it.

The front door closed with a terrible knock. Shelagh looked at the clock.

“God! The dinner!”

She had spent most of the afternoon drawing and thinking, when all she had to do was dinner.

“Shelagh I must eat and go, things are complicated with a mother and the new doctor is really useless so…Where's the dinner?”

Shelagh blinked rapidly again. She didn't know since when it became customary for Patrick to just walk in, dump all his troubles on her, and leave. Gone are the days of greetings with kisses to annoy Tim, and the simple but important "How was your day?". Now all was limited to dining, complaining, and disappearing.

She knew perfectly well how busy he was, always knew and was always his support in that, and in everything. But she also knew perfectly well that he had so many opportunities to retire and have a quiet life away from demanding patients.

But Patrick rejected that over and over again. Now he no longer worked, he taught. That's what he told her, but she knew it wasn't like that. He worked as always, even more, and complained about all the new doctor who had the misfortune not to like him.

So far from holding back her tears at how her situation had changed for…months? Or years? Shelagh felt her anger rise and turn all against him.

“Patrick, you could at least say hello to me? Since when have you become so rude?”

He paused in his frantic race against time, looked at her in surprise, then snorted in exasperation.

“Hello Shelagh, how are you? I need to leave soon, what happened to the food?”

Anger bit her and she let it out.

“You don't even have the decency to ask if something has happened to me, or to the children. Anyway, I didn't make dinner because I just forgot the time. But I'll start it now, I already have something prepared and…”

“Did you forget the time?" Shelagh, do you feel good?”

Her anger faded a little. He was visibly concerned, and not just because of the lack of food. Very reluctantly, she smiled at him.

“Yes, Patrick, I'm fine. Just look, I amused myself with this.” She approached the table, took her drawing and showed it as if she were a proud girl. “I saw an advertisement in the newspaper. Want to believe they are looking for card illustrators? I thought by now those things would be done with computers or something. You have to send a folder with drawings and they notify you if you stay or not. I thought…”

“No, Angela cannot get into this, she is in her last year of school, she will only waste time.”

“I didn't think about Angela, I thought about myself.”

Patrick put the drawing aside. He looked at her shocked.

“You?”

“Of course, why not? There are days when I get very bored, the children are already grown up, May loves to cook and even takes care of making the food many times, Angela also helps a lot at home, and Teddy also. And since I don't work anymore, I thought this would be fun.”

“We don't need money. We are fine.”

She contained a snuffle. It was the same thing he said when he asked her to quit her job. They didn't need money, they needed time. She complied, and he never did.

“I know. However, it wouldn't hurt to have my own money again.”

“But Shelagh, draw? For...cards?” His tone was derogatory. The fury began to grow faster.

“Yes, cards, what's wrong with that?”

“It seems stupid to me.”

She opened her mouth, unable to believe what she had heard and what she saw: Patrick was already standing, putting on his coat to leave.

“Why does it seem stupid to you? And why are you leaving?”

“Why am I going to stay if there's no dinner? I'll buy something out there.”

“Patrick I will heat what there is, it will not take more than five minutes.”

“Let it go, better keep drawing your…cards.”

She walked quickly, to stand between him and the door. He looked at her annoyed.

“Shelagh I have to go.”

“No, I want to talk to you.”

“I told you that I should go and do you want to talk now?”

“Now, or whenever, you always have the same answer: I can't! Patrick, what's wrong with me? Why do you hate me?”

He stared at her, then shook his head.

“Hate you? Shelagh, how could I hate you, what are you saying? How can you think that?”

“It is very easy to think when I hear what you say. Look, if I left the job it was because the money was not necessary, and because you wanted more time with the family. I did it, but you didn't stop working.”

“Again with that…”

She licked her lips, felt hot and parched. She took a breath to continue.

“If I did it was also because I felt useless with the other nurses, so young and updated.”

“That's nonsense, you were always the best.”

“I was, but I wanted to continue being so. I wanted to do that specialization in the university, and you also said it was stupid. And I curse myself every day for having listened to you.”

Patrick stopped looking at her, buttoned his coat. She leaned against the door, willing not to let him go.

“Why do you do that? Why do you hate me”

“Shelagh, I don't hate you! I...thought it wasn't necessary. I thought I would stop working but I can't do it, it's working or going back to smoking, or being here bothering you. Okay, go back to work if you get bored. I need to go now, let me go outside.”

“No.”

“Shelagh…”

“I will return if I do that specialization. I will not make a fool of myself in front of the younger ones.”

He sighed, defeated, shaking his head.

“There is no money for that.”

“Perfect, I'll do the cards.”

“Shelagh, no. You will not do it,” he waved his index finger in front of her, as he did every time he wanted her to obey him. As if she were his daughter. She took the finger in her fist and pulled it away. He stared at her in shock and almost fright.

“Why should I obey you? Because you are my husband?”

He took off his hat, annoyed.

“You won't go to university because you're getting older.”

“Now you call me an old woman. You are too and yet you are working.”

“I'm not saying that! Shelagh, you can come back as my receptionist, Miss Higgins is tired of me and wants to retire. You will have a job, your money, you will not be bored.”

“I don't want that. I want other things, and I want you to stop working.”

“I'm sorry, but it won't be like that,” he put his hat back on his head. “Step aside, I'm late.”

She barely moved and he passed, brushing her entire body and shutting the door with another slam. 

Shelagh walked to the kitchen, took the drawing she was proud of, and tore it into pieces.

***

“Dad won't come to dinner?”

Shelagh smiled, as best she could, at her youngest son. He ate voraciously, as his 13 years demanded.

“Teddy, breathe between each bite please,” she laughed barely, and her son finally stopped to take a sip of juice.

“I'm sure they fought again.”

Angela's voice was sharp, direct to the target. Although they did not share blood, the girl was an exact copy of Patrick in her character, and that, combined with her adolescence, kept her very far from being a little angel. She was mobile, stubborn, she was never at home, and lately, like her father, she had all her artillery against Shelagh.

May cleared her throat and smiled tightly.

“Surely not, Angie, why do you think that?”

“Look, Mom doesn't even answer us. It is clear that they fought.” Angela rolled her eyes, as Tim did, and May gave Shelagh her shy smile.

Although they did not share blood either, May had grown with a very similar character to Shelagh, so like their parents, the girls fought quite often.

“We don't fight, Angela,” Shelagh answered at last, stabbing at her food with the fork.

“You lie. I know you well.”

“I know you well too Angela, and I know very well that you were late to school today because you met that boy.”

Angela dropped her spoon onto the plate and crossed her arms, looking defiantly at her.

“Why are you diverting the conversation?”

Shelagh sighed. She understood her daughter and her changes, but she knew very well that the reason for Angela's almost permanent anger was Robert: a boy Angela had a crush on and Shelagh wouldn't accept. She knew his family, she knew they were bad people, but the boy had her daughter entangled and Patrick accepted him, and she did not understand why. 

They had argued thousands of times for that reason.

“Dad likes Robert.” Angela's voice was decisive.

“Your father likes everything you do because you are just like him.”

“That is not true! Besides, he is not my f…”

“Angela!” Shelagh was already standing, looking into the eyes of her most rebellious daughter, “Don't you dare say that. He is your father and I am your mother, this is your family, whether you like it or not. And this goes for everyone.”

She looked at her three children, all with their heads down. Angela had mutated into a little girl, her eyes filled with tears.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean that.” She whispered.

“It's okay Angela. Come on, eat the food before it gets cold.”

They returned to the food, although Angela did not stop crying.

“Angela, love?”

“Dad is angry with me because I don't want to study medicine.”

She took her daughter's hand and squeezed it. That was another big problem. Just as Patrick had accepted his daughter's boyfriend without restrictions, he just as easily rejected her future project. He totally refused to let Angela study art, something Shelagh supported. Suddenly her head started to hurt, there was too much to think about and discuss.

“He will accept that, love.”

“I want to be a veterinarian” Teddy intervened, “It's similar, isn't it?”

Shelagh smiled, peace seemed restored.

“Anyway, I still don't understand why you don't accept Robert.”

Shelagh grabbed her head, peace only existed for a few seconds.

“I already told you, I have known his family for years and…”

“But he is not the same! I am your daughter and that does not mean that I'm unhappy like you!”

“Angela!”

Both parents screamed in unison. Patrick dropped his coat and closed the door.

“How do you say something like that to your mother, young lady?”

May sighed, exhausted, pushing her plate away. Teddy just yawned, pouring himself another glass of juice.

“Why do you say such a thing?” Patrick said without stopping looking at Angela. She did not seem to subside before her father's gaze and Shelagh swallowed, if the girl challenged him things would be worse.

“Angela, darling…” She reached out to touch her daughter, but the girl pulled away.

“This house is disgusting. You two are too.”

She wanted to leave, but Patrick caught her wrist. She complained, but he didn't release her.

“Patrick, leave her.”

“No, she is going to listen to me. Say sorry to your mother, Angela.”

“I won't, because I told the truth. She is unhappy with you and wants me to be unhappy with Robert too.”

“Oh, Robert again…”

“It's your fault, Patrick, but you were delighted when the boy told you that he will study medicine.”

Patrick released his daughter, who escaped straight to the stairs. He turned to look at Shelagh.

“You only cared about that,” she continued, “that the boy will be a doctor. You didn't care about the safety of your own daughter. She is only 17!”

“Shelagh, I live thinking about her, and everyone! The boy is good, you are the one who does not want to believe it.”

She sighed, exhausted. She realized that her other two children were watching television.

“God, now they will never end.” She heard Teddy complain.

“Patrick you only care about your patients, for months you have not cared what happens in this family, because you are never here! The children stopped being children, they stopped being your pets to play and you got more and more into work. Even all your frustration with patients is directed at me, you always did that and I'm tired!”

“And again the work! This is all about the cards, isn't it?”

“What cards?” Teddy asked, walking past her, opening the fridge to pour soda into a glass.

“A silly job that your mother wants to do.”

“Why do you disqualify it like this? Why do you think anything other than medicine is silly and stupid? You even told that to Angela!”

Patrick stopped to contradict her when he saw Teddy looking at them with disdain.

“Let's talk about this another time, Shelagh.”

She turned, saw her son. She felt terrible.

“It's true. Sorry, Teddy.”

“I don't care,” answered the boy.

***

“I shouldn't do it. I shouldn't have argued with you in front of the children.” Patrick sighed as he sat down on the bed. She saw him visibly sorry.

She just nodded. He was right, they always avoided fights and more when the children were present but now everything seemed to explode at every moment.

“Shelagh, about that boy Robert...He's a good guy. But yes, I liked him when he said he will study for a doctor. I was angry with Angela, I think she will waste her future studying...art, or whatever. It seems to me that being with someone who is studying something more serious will guarantee that she does not throw everything overboard.”

“Patrick, you must allow her to study that. She is stubborn like you, and she won't want to do anything else. But that boy...I'm afraid that the same thing will happen to her as to her real mother. I wouldn't force her to give up a baby for adoption, of course, but I don't want her to ruin her life when she has talent and potential.”

“She will ruin it by studying that. Do you know what they do? They get together to "make art" and there are only...orgies and drugs. She thinks she will paint like Michelangelo and she will only end up smoking weed. Also Edward is doing so badly at school, what the hell is wrong with that boy?”

“Maybe...he's just a little upset with the situation here.”

“What situation? We are a family like any other, he mustn't make meaningless excuses.”

Shelagh sighed. She didn't want to keep talking about everything when Patrick saw nothing wrong and she saw everything wrong.

They lay quietly, and she dozed a little until she heard him get up. After several minutes without him coming back and without listening to his movements, she went down to the living room, expecting to find him reading papers or doing work things. 

What she saw left her frozen.

Patrick was sitting on the sofa, with tears in his eyes, looking at the photo of Marianne that was always on the piano, as a reminder to Tim, although he had not lived in the house for a long time. Shelagh had not wanted to get the photo out, after all, Marianne had been Patrick's first wife. 

Now she felt an intense wave of jealousy. She swallowed hard.

Patrick missed Marianne. He missed another life he had with another woman.

She felt a tear run down her cheek and slowly made her way up the stairs, quietly. When she reached the bedroom, sobs attacked her.

***

Patrick spent several nights repeating that attitude. He thought she didn't know, but now she sneaked down every night, feeling like those women who follow their husbands to discover them with their lovers, only that her husband was reunited with the photograph of a dead woman. 

Patrick had few friends, but he had not seen them for a long time. She consoled herself by thinking that he was looking and crying at that photo telling it his problems because he had not nobody to speak about it.

_“I still love you, my darling.”_

The whispered words stabbed at her heart.

_“I miss you so much, why did you go?”_

She felt the ground beneath her feet vanish. Suddenly the foolish doubt that she sometimes had and that she always discarded, appeared no longer as a doubt but as a certainty: she was just a replacement. A little wood to cover a hole. She was always Marianne's substitute, someone to take care of Patrick, cook food, do laundry, and have sex with him. Nothing else.

The pain quickly gave way to a new sensation she never felt toward him.

_“I hate you.”_

She couldn't hate him, but she needed to tell him, to tell him that he gave her a life of lies and that she didn't want that anymore. 

If she ever had the courage to change her life radically, now she could too.

***

The next morning was the same chaos as ever. Angela woke up late, fought with everyone, left without eating. Teddy took advantage and ate his breakfast and his sister's, and May left in silence, barely saying hello to her parents. Patrick was about to run away too, but Shelagh stopped him by squeezing his arm. He looked at her annoyed.

“Patrick, I need to talk to you. And it will be now.”

He blinked at the severity of her voice. He seemed a little scared.

“What happens?”

“It is what I wonder. What happens?”

“Oh no, again with that?”

“Yes, again, because you say that everything is fine and normal, but if everything were like this you wouldn't have spent nights crying with a photo of your wife.”

The word _wife_ was a remarked hiss, looking him straight in the eye.

“What...what are you saying?” He smiled nervously, extended his arms towards her, “Shelagh, you are my wife.”

She let out a sad laugh.

“Really? Do you think I didn't see you crying with that photo?” She pointed to the photo of Marianne, immaculate on the piano. “You clearly miss her, don't deny it because I heard you say it.”

“Shelagh, that's private, why are you spying on me now?”

“Tell me the truth Patrick Turner,” she continued, ignoring him, "I was always her replacement, wasn't I?”

“Why did you spy on me?”

She did not answer, knew that he would first try to argue, and then reconcile. He did exactly that.

“Answer me, Patrick. Was I just the replacement? Did I never manage to be like her?”

“Don't say that! It was not so! Shelagh, honey…”

He tried to get closer, but she pulled away. This time they wouldn't solve this fight like this, he wouldn't shut her up with kisses.

“Shelagh, come with me,” he stretched his arms towards her, “Shelagh, I love you.”

“Do you really love me? Because it doesn't seem like it.”

He ran his hand through his hair, which fell onto his forehead. She wished she could touch it, but she wasn't going to give in to it.

“Okay, Shelagh, do the cards thing. I hope they give you the job, you get money, and you go to university. I'll pay what you need.”

“It's not about that anymore, Patrick, and you know it well.”

He dropped into a chair.

“I will not leave the job, it is my life and I will not allow you to take that away from me.”

“I'm not trying to take anything away from you, I just want to take care of you and take care of ourselves, but you won't let me do it!”

He sighed, ran his hand through his hair again, staring at the floor.

“You are always the victim here, Shelagh. I always took care of you, I protected you, I did everything you wanted. Now what else do you want? I gave you everything but you never, never left the guilt. You always felt guilty for leaving the Order and nothing I did worked.”

She felt as if he had slapped her. It was true, she always lived with that guilt, but she was happy. She believed he was too.

She sat across from him, tried to take his hand, but he pulled it away. She saw that his eyes were full of tears, like hers.

“And you always pressed. You always wanted to know, you always asked, but the one who had to live with the nightmares was me. You are so annoying sometimes. And you always handled me with pity, like a good nun you were, always appealing to be the victim and the only one who was right.”

“Patrick, you don't need to offend me.”

“I'm just saying how I feel. Because I can't tell anyone, just a photo of my dead wife.”

“Is that why you hate me?” A sob crossed her words.

“I would never hate you, Shelagh, even if you killed me.”

“But you don't love me.”

He did not answer, and she swallowed, feeling the anger begin to build. She felt him grab her by the chin, forcing her to kiss him. She pushed away from him and stood up.

“Don't touch me, Patrick. Please.”

“Shelagh… I'm...I'm sorry. We can change all this, I know. A thousand things happened before and we overcame them.”

“No Patrick, not anymore. This is the end.” 

She took a deep breath and forced herself to say the words she thought several times and refused to say.

“I want the divorce.”

He stood up slowly, still looking at her.

“What did you say?!”

“What you heard. I want to divorce from you.”

He approached her, took her by the elbows although she struggled to release his grip.

“Shelagh! My God, no! You can't leave me!”

“Why not?” She cried, already free of his grasp.

“Ask me to kill me but don't ask me for this. I can't live without you. Please, Shelagh, please! I love you, I love you forever, please, you can't leave me!”

He took her in his arms again, seeking to kiss her, but she separated again. His pleading gaze turned to ice and he took her arm again.

“There is another man, isn't there?” She heard hatred in his voice and was afraid. Patrick's jealousy was always present from the beginning, children of his fear at seeing her much younger than him. But over time they had stopped being funny and exciting.

“What? Patrick, what are you saying?”

“You leave me for another man, that's it.”

“You know that's impossible.”

He took her by both arms, forcing her to look at him.

“Then tell me that you love me. If you don't love me, I will set you free.”

“Patrick, stop.”

She didn't tell him, because she wasn't even sure. The resentment she felt had taken over every cell in her body, and she felt only that, resentment and pain, and the desire not to see him so as not to give in to him again.

He released her slowly, she heard him suck through his nose.

“Very well, Shelagh,” his voice trembled as he walked away a few steps, “We will do as you want. We will get divorced.”

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“Why didn't Dad come back yet?”

Teddy looked at the clock and looked at his mother. The girls were watching television, distracted, but Teddy seemed even a little scared.

“I don't know, love.” Shelagh looked at the clock, it really was later than Patrick used to arrive, “I'll call the surgery, maybe there is a complicated patient.”

She crawled up to the phone, feeling pain all over her body. The whole day was like that, she was walking from one side of the house to the other, aimlessly, with the images of that morning repeating over and over in her head. From every corner of the house she had a happy memory and Patrick was in all of them, because he was her life. But that morning, she asked him to get out of her life. The poisonous sting of the words spoken ran through her body again. What happened? What made so much happiness suddenly turn into a lot of shouts and tears?

Shelagh wondered if she was the problem. She lived a life for a time that filled her with joy until later, everything became too heavy and she fled. 

Did the same thing happen to her now? Was she bored with this life too and longing for another?

She told herself that the problem was not hers, convinced herself of that. She was always Shelagh, with her faults and virtues. The problem here was Patrick. 

His insulting words returned to her mind and in a fit of fury she removed the photo of Marianne on the piano and tossed it in a drawer. Then she spent the entire afternoon crying until the children returned from school and forced herself to put a smile on her face.

She decided to go to her bedroom and from there call the surgery, and waited impatiently. At last his voice greeted, and she was suddenly relieved to know that he was there and not elsewhere, perhaps with another woman. The thought nauseated her.

“Patrick, it's me,” she whispered.

There was silence on the other side. She licked her lips.

“The children want to know if you will return tonight.”

“Just the children?”

His voice was indecipherable: sarcastic, sad, angry. Despite everything, she wanted to tell him that not just the children, but that she also missed him very much, but his strange voice made her remember the words of that morning.

“Yes, just the children,” she replied harshly.

“Tell them that I will not return, that I have a complicated patient. The truth is that I'll spend the night here because I don't want to see you.”

The tears welled up when she felt his words as if he had physically hit her.

“Patrick…”

“Don't you dare ask me to come back, Shelagh. This afternoon I spoke to a lawyer, he told me that a divorce can come out pretty fast so you will soon be free of me.”

“Patrick don't say that, please,” she was trying to whisper so that no one would listen to her because the girls were in the corridor, but the truth is that the tears were choking her. “Please, don't do this.”

“Shelagh...you asked for a divorce.”

Now his voice sounded sad like hers. She remembered his face that morning, his gaze looking betrayed by her. She swallowed, was going to speak, but Patrick cut the call. She didn't have the courage to call him back.

“Mom?”

She looked up, May watched her worried from the door.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, love,” she managed to smile and stood up.

“Dad won't come?”

“No, he has a lot to do.”

She gave her daughter a kiss on each cheek and although the girl didn't seem very convinced by her mother's response, she went to her room.

Shelagh lay down in silence, trying not to think how empty and cold the bed was. Out of habit she left the light on, then turned it off when she remembered that this time Patrick would not be eager to return home.

“I have no one to help me with this,” she told herself, looking at the ceiling.

She had been alone for years. The disappearance of Nonnatus took Sister Julienne to the Mother House, and although she used to visit her, she was no longer in her life as before. Trixie was married to a diplomat who gave her the life she deserved in an exotic country in Asia, and the others were each with their lives, some in London, others out there. The contact had been diluted and the happy life she knew little by little was changing until it left her alone, like tonight.

Now she had no one to turn to, no one to tell her that she was right or that she was crazy to ask what she asked of her husband.

_ Divorce _ . A word that always sounded so far away to her. As a former nun she felt divorced from God for a time, but then everything went back to normal. As Patrick's wife, it never occurred to her. Until that morning, when she yelled at him, when she gave voice to the desire she had for a long time. 

Being away from Patrick would be best. He would realize what he was missing and would return.

But would he return? Or the only one who would get hurt from all this would be her?

***

“Do you want to have tea?”

After two days without seeing him, she was hurt and at the same time relieved to have him back home.

Patrick barely looked at her as he walked up the stairs.

“No.”

She followed him.

“Patrick, I…”

“I just came to get my things, you can continue with yours.”

“What? Your things?”

He stopped in the middle of the corridor and looked at her. She was afraid, she knew all the looks of Patrick, they were experts in communicating only with the eyes, but this time she did not know what was happening to him.

“I got a flat for me. Don't worry, it is not far from here, the children will be able to come and go.”

He entered the room and began to remove his clothes from the closet. He was upset, he did it by throwing each garment on the bed.

“A what? I don't understand…”

She understood perfectly, but refused to believe it. Patrick was leaving.

He didn't answer, just kept piling up shirts and folding them carelessly as he tried to put them in a suitcase.

Shelagh took a deep breath and approached him, taking his hand firmly.

“No, Patrick, don't do it. What I said was an impulse. Please don't go.”

He sighed, released her hand.

“Shelagh, you asked for a divorce. What do you want me to do? That I stay here pretending that nothing happened? I'm aware that you cannot stand me, very well, I'll leave and I'll set you free. Do what you want, paint, get married again, go back to the convent. I don't care.”

“Don't tell me that, please.”

“Shelagh I really don't know what happened. It must be my fault. I believed that this would be forever, that it was our destiny to be together, that...When I found you on that road everything was magical. But now the spell is broken and you know what? Once again you are right, it is better that we separate before we hurt ourselves terribly.”

Despair washed over her. She did not know if it was because he mentioned that road or because she saw the consequence of her words, but she was determined that things would not end. Maybe if she had more patience, if she did what he told her…

She sat on the bed and put her hands on the suitcase, preventing him from closing it. Patrick sat down too, sighing, his head in his hands.

“What do you want now, Shelagh?” She heard him say, the voice sad and muffled.

“Don't go please. Forgive me, I didn't mean that. I don't want us to break up. Patrick I promise you…”

“No, Shelagh, no,” he straightened up, his expression was tired and sad, “you wanted to say that and I already told you that you're right. We must stop this before we harm ourselves or our family. Those children don't deserve to hear their parents fighting, or an absent father, or a frustrated mother.”

She nodded, he was right. After so long, they seemed to agree only to part.

“Is your...flat close?” She asked. She felt the tears running again at the magnitude of her question.  _ His _ flat.

“Yes, don't worry, I'll be there when you need me. I'll go look for the children at school and explain everything to them. About the people…”

“I don't care what people say.”

“It's true, we never cared,” he gave her a sad smile and she nodded, crying again. He reached out to caress one of her cheeks.

“Patrick…” she heard her own voice pleading, refusing to accept what was happening.

He released her and, rising to his feet, he took his suitcase.

“Goodbye Shelagh.”

***

_ A week later. _

She rolled over in bed. There was no point in extending her arm, he was not there.

Sitting up, she turned on the light and opened her bible. She did it out of habit, not because it gave her comfort.

“What happened to you, Shelagh?” She wondered, and shook her head.

She doubted that this change in her life would work. Her children were just as upset, and the afternoon before, she saw Patrick, after a week, smoking distracted outside of surgery. She walked up to him, her body filled with anticipation, but he turned and started chatting to a perfect blonde woman. She knew her, she was only a patient, but seeing Patrick after so many days, next to a woman like that, only made her turn and run home.

She tossed the bible across the bed and pressed her fingers to her eyes.

What had she done?

With more time to think, the images had been coming to her head throughout the days. She wanted to blame everything on Patrick but a marriage was with two and two were the culprits. So she began to see how many mistakes she had made with him, and they were many.

But she never behaved like him.

She stood up and wrapped herself in her robe, went down to the kitchen. There, on the table, was her folder with drawings. She sat in front of it and started painting, she only needed a few short to complete a pretty decent swatch to send. 

She had the time to do a lot of drawings and also to find out information about the university.

The thought of it filled her with enthusiasm. Several people knew her there, mostly because of her last name.  _ Turner _ , she repeated it several times and several doctors and teachers immediately identified her as  _ Turner's wife. _ She only made cute faces at that, but the truth is that it made her uncomfortable. Now she didn't quite know what she meant to Patrick, and she wanted to be recognized for who she was and not who she belonged to.

The good thing about that was finding friendly people who told her that not only girls signed up for specializations, but older women like her as well. The university boasted of including everyone and although she did not believe that it happened in reality, a little calmed her uncertainties.

When she finished her drawing, she went back to bed. She was more tired so she hoped she would sleep soon. She did, but her dreams were full of him. She missed him so much. She had loved that man with such ferocity and dedication, she had given him her whole life, her heart, she was always ready to kill or kill herself for him.

When she woke up, the first thing she thought about was if he also dreamed of her.

She still loved him the same way, but the rough edges of the years had worn the relationship down as the water erodes the stone. Before breaking in pieces, it was best to walk away.

Perhaps very soon they would be together again, more mature, more conscious, more willing.

***

She went down to the kitchen even though it was very early, and what she saw almost made her fall. Sitting, looking at her drawings, was Patrick in his younger version.

“Hi Mom.”

“Timothy!” She approached him and he strangely allowed himself to be embraced. “Why didn't you tell me you were coming?”

“And why didn't you tell me you separated from my father?”

She pulled away from his embrace, but he smiled and stood up to give her another.

“Calm down, mom,” he said, separating.

“How do you know?”

“Angela called me about four nights ago. She told me everything, so I applied to leave the hospital and here I am. I couldn't miss such an event!” The boy, now a man, laughed.

“It's not funny, Timothy."”

“I know mom. You look terrible, I'll make you some tea.”

“I couldn't sleep much last night.” She dropped into a chair. Tears threatened, Angela had been too sore and asked her older brother for help, and she, her mother, did not know that.

The reality is that her children took the situation almost with relief, but they hardly spoke to her that week. She knew, too, that they had not visited their father either. If the situation was confusing for her, it was logical that her children still did not understand much.

“Are those drawings yours?” Asked Tim while making the tea, “I thought they were from Angela, but the signature says “Mannion”. It looks good as an artistic name.”

She answered him with a half smile as she took her cup. Timothy sat across from her.

“A printing press is looking for illustrators and I will send them.”

“That's great, you should never stop drawing, you were always very good.”

“Thank you son, but I don't think they'll give me that job, I don't even know if I want it. This is what ended everything with your father. He got mad, I got mad…”

“Dad is bothered by everything, and I understand you, sometimes he is unbearable. Mom, I'm on your side.”

“Oh Tim,” she caressed his cheek, he looked so adult and at the same time so young, “don't say that, there are no sides here. You don't have to worry.”

“How can I not worry? This morning I will go see him and he will listen to me. He ruins everything, always. He did it with mom, he did it with me, with you, with everyone. It is always the excuse of war or work but I no longer believe anything.”

“Timothy, don't say that please, he's your father.”

The boy sighed, messed his hair, annoyed by everything.

“Tim, I know you may be angry with him, but I'm also guilty. I...I don't know, maybe I wasn't the wife he wanted.”

“Mom! You were the best, he had more than he deserved. Anyway, I just hope I'm not like him.”

She bit her lip, hearing that was painful.

“You once said that you expected to be even half of what he was.”

“As a doctor. Not as a father or husband. If I learned anything it is not to put the work in front of everything in my life.”

“Speaking of which, how are things with Katherine? How is everything going in Manchester?”

Shelagh was disappointed when she saw that the safe ground was no longer like that. Timothy did a grimace.

“Bad. She is like dad. Work, work, study, study. Don't talk to her about family, children, travel, vacations, music, fun. She only cares about working.”

“Oh Tim, I'm sorry. But think about this, do you love her?”

“Yes, I love her, but with just love we do nothing. Do you still love dad?”

She smiled without looking at him, stroking the handle of the mug.

“Yes, a lot.”

“But you're better away from him. The same thing happens to me with Kate.”

She nodded, thinking about when her son became a mature and wise man, perhaps more than his parents.

“Shall I prepare your bedroom for you? How long will you stay?”

“One week. It will also help me to see how I am far from Kate.”

“Very well, I'll wake up your siblings and then I'll make your bed.”

***

The chaos generated by Tim between his siblings dispersed as soon as the four children left the door. The relieved look Angela gave her older brother did not escape Shelagh, and she hoped that things, even for a few days, would be fine.

She set about preparing her son's room. Since his departure, all his things were there but they had to be ventilated and dust removed. She smiled at his cricket trophies, school pictures, sheet music, and books. Tim was her first child, a grown boy who taught her how to be a mother and a friend. Since he left, things with Patrick have gotten worse, but they were rare from before. She did not take well to have her son away, and Patrick locked himself more in his work.

Now, Tim was there again, on a mission she didn't understand if it was to scold his father or reunite them both again. She just hoped his presence would calm her three children.

***

“Mom we are already here!”

She smiled upon hearing May's voice, and then heard the clatter of footsteps and screams.

May left the shopping bags on the table and everyone ran to wash their hands.

“Ah, mom,” Tim said, taking some fruit out of the bags, “I will not sleep here, I'll go with Dad.”

She felt sadness take over her. She prepared everything carefully, but Tim wants his father. After all, he was Patrick's son and not hers so...

“Mom, don't take it badly,” Timothy put an arm, wet of wash the fruits, around her back, “I'll go with him because I feel pity for that poor man.”

“What happens?” suddenly all her alarms were on. She needed to see him, even though she didn't know where he was living, “What's wrong with your father?”

“Calm down, mom He's sad, just like you. And...he was very happy when he saw me and I decided to spend the nights with him. You know, beer, music, confessions of two alone men…”

“Oh Tim, you paint it in a terrible way.”

“It's like that. But it will do us good to catch up, fight a bit, and that.”

He gave her a loud kiss on the cheek and went to yell at his siblings to stop pouring water on themselves in the bathroom. Shelagh smiled seeing them laughing and happy, despite the mess.

***

The next day, the doorbell startled her and, watching that Tim's favorite food did not burn in the oven, she opened the door. Leaning against the jamb and looking tired, was Patrick. He didn't look at her, he just turned and yelled at his car.

“Get out of there!”

“Patrick, what's going on?”

Teddy got out of the car, dragging his sweater and backpack. He was disheveled and with a black eye.

“God! Edward!”

“They called me from school,” said Patrick, without stopping looking at his youngest son, “Apparently, this boy likes to get into fights and I'm not going to allow that.”

Teddy entered without looking at his mother. Shelagh turned her head to Patrick.

“What happened?”

“I don't know, he got into a fight with a guy but he didn't want to say a word to me. The director showed me his notes, did you know that he has missed two exams?”

“What? He did not miss a single day of class!”

Patrick shrugged and sighed heavily. Shelagh stepped aside.

“Do you want to come in? The food is almost ready.”

“No, Shelagh, I'll eat at my flat. Let me know if this child tells you something. He's grounded, I won't give him money for a couple of months, but I'd like to know what the hell is wrong with him. I couldn't get a word out of him.”

“He didn't talk much this week either, just with Timothy,” she took a breath, “Patrick, you can stay here, really.”

“No, I'm leaving. Bye.”

She saw him get into the car and drive away slowly. He was tired and haggard, just like her. Sighing, she closed the door and went up to Teddy's room. The boy was sitting on the bed, taking his books out of his backpack.

“I'm not going to eat,” he said when he saw his mother at the door.

"I only came to check your eye."

“Dad already saw it, he said that with ice the inflammation will go away.”

Shelagh heard the voices of her daughters arriving from school, chatting happily. She looked at her son, at her bruised and angry little boy. She approached him, but he did not look at her.

“Teddy, let me check your eye and then I'll bring you ice. Are you sure you don't want to eat?”

“Why don't you yell at me and go?”

She blinked, her son's voice tone was changing a little, and his question sounded out of tune and rabid.

“Why do you want me to yell at you?”

“You are just like dad,” he spat, turning his back on her, "You know about my exams and my fight, well, yell at me!”

Shelagh gaped at him. Her son, her little boy, looked like someone else. She sat on the bed and tried to take his hand, but he pulled away.

“I missed those exams because I don't understand anything about mathematics and geometry. I didn't ask for help because everyone here is perfect.”

“Teddy, what do you say?”

“Yes, you are! You and Dad are always the best in their work, Tim too, May with the best grades, Angela is talented, and I am useless! And you know why I punched Johnny Finch? Because he made fun of my parents being divorced.”

“What's happening here?” Angela appeared, chewing gum, “Hey Teddy, are you okay?”

“And you ask? The fault is yours! You and your stupid art career and your stupid boyfriend made mom and dad break up!”

“Edward!” Shelagh stood up, but Angela was already on top of her brother, grabbing his arm.

“Me? Now it's my fault that our parents are a mess?!”

“It's your fault, you damn adopted!”

“Enough you two!”

They both stopped, looking at their mother. Shelagh felt the fury burning in her veins, her hands itching to slap the two children but she had to stop herself from doing it.

“I'm going to kill you, you stupid dwarf,” Angela hissed, “If you're the favorite here, it doesn't make me any less, you know?”

Shelagh swallowed, shocked by what she was hearing. She had never treated her children differently, she did not understand why Angela said something like that.

“Angela there are no favorites here. You are all my children, I love you all and I don't care where you came from. Edward, this is not your sister's fault, none of you are to blame. Ask for forgiveness.”

“Not even in dreams,” Teddy said, crossing his arms, “In addition Angela is right, you and dad are a mess.”

Shelagh sighed. At least they agreed to hate her.

“Hey! Anyone here? Something smells delicious!” They heard Tim's voice coming up the stairs.

“I'm going with Tim to Manchester.” Teddy said, and his sister nodded.

“Me too.”

“Do whatever you want.” Shelagh sighed.

“What happened? Oops, bad faces. What happened to that eye, Teddy?” Timothy laughed, and Angela hugged him.

“That dwarf said terrible things to me.”

“Did Teddy do that? Hey, you shouldn't treat your older sister badly. Mom, what happened?”

She tried to hold back the tears, shook her head.

“Problems, Tim. Problems.”

Timothy hugged his sister, kissed her hair, and then gave his younger brother a little nudge on the shoulder.

“Okay, let's go eat, I'm starving!”

***

The sound of the call was repeated several times until Patrick answered.

“It's me.”

She heard his sigh through the earpiece.

“Tim gave me your new number,” she continued.

“Yes, they installed the phone two days ago. Something happened?”

_ I miss you. _ She wanted to tell him that, but seeing the chaos that was her home, it was better that Patrick wasn't there to make it worse.

“I know what happened to Teddy.”

“Oh, at least he talks to you.”

“He didn't say it...precisely speaking. He told me it with screams and fighting with Angela.”

Another sigh.

“What happened?”

“He missed the exams because he doesn't understand mathematics and he didn't tell us anything because he thinks that everyone here is perfect.”

She heard a dry, sad chuckle.

“We are very far from perfection.”

“Yes. And the punches were because a boy made fun of him because we are separated.”

“But there are many families with separated parents!”

“I know.”

There was silence. She tried to assimilate that they too were "a family with separated parents."

“Shelagh, what are we going to do?” he said desperately.

It was what she was wondering. What to do? How to try to be away from him without her family falling apart? She sniffed through her nose, tears quietly starting to flow.

“Please love, don't cry.”

Hearing him say that on the other side of the line only made a sob escape. His voice was sad, they were hurting even apart. She heard that he was about to cut off the communication, perhaps realizing what he had just said.

“Patrick, come back.”

“It makes no sense, we will continue to fight.”

“It's true,” she wiped her eyes with one hand, “Let's try to do this right, let's try to get something right.”

***

Tim ate and made funny faces while his siblings laughed.

Shelagh thought about how much she missed this boy, how much his humor and cheek had been needed at home.

She looked at Teddy, whose eye grew in swelling and color. She stood up to grab his ice pack and change it as it was melting and wetting the entire tablecloth.

“And what punishment did they put on you, dwarf?” Tim said with his mouth full of food.

“Dad left me without my pay for two months.” Teddy growled, slicing with the knife hard.

“Nothing else? You were lucky to catch dad in his old age, he is no longer the same as before.”

“Tim, don't say that about your father,” Shelagh handed the bag to his youngest son, “Teddy won't have television for two months either.”

“What?! He exclaimed, stopping to eat, “Dad didn't say that!”

“But I do. And this afternoon I will find a math teacher for you.”

“Why?” May asked.

“Mom, it is not necessary that everyone knows it.” Teddy leaned the ice bag over his eye, complained.

“Son, there is no shame in asking for help.”

“Does Teddy have a hard time doing maths?” May smiled.

“Yes May, what's wrong?” The boy hissed, “Sorry for not being a genius like you.”

“Hey, don't start!” Tim complained, “My God, they are like little wild beasts, the first thing they say and they already want to kill themselves. Anyone notices that they were not partially raised by Sister Evangelina.”

Shelagh laughed, which Timothy accompanied as the others looked at them strangely.

“Without doubt Sister Evangelina would have put them all in order with a simple glance. Do you remember Tim when I was in charge of Nonnatus and it occurred to you to enter with muddy shoes?”

“I remember trembling. Luckily Dad chose the right nun, if I would had Sister Evangelina as a mother, I think I would no longer be alive.”

Shelagh gave another hysterical laugh, she had not laughed for days or weeks and it seemed that her face had forgotten how to do it, used to tears and tiredness.

“Was she so bad?” Teddy asked.

“She was not bad, I met few people as good as she,” answered Shelagh, “But she was very strict. Well, did you finish having lunch? Time to do homework. Tim will help me clean up.”

Everyone complained but obeyed by crawling around the house. Tim left his facade as a complaining boy as soon as his siblings put their heads in books and notebooks.

“Mom,” he whispered as he dried a plate, “are you okay? I mean about what happened today.”

“Oh, yes,” she smiled, “Teddy baffled me completely, but I suppose I must begin to accept that he is ceasing to be my little child to become a teenager tired of all of us.”

Timothy just nodded while having another plate.

“Last night I was talking to Dad.”

She didn't answer anything, just continued to wash the dishes.

“For the love of God mom, he's devastated.”

She looked up at the boy who seemed desperate.

“I am too, Tim, and yet I'm with all of you, not alone and calm in my new flat." 

The words bit her, but among all the things she was feeling for Patrick there was also this: anger because he left, almost without resistance, and immediately he was living a single life while she dealt with the chaos that was their family.

“He's angry because you asked for a divorce, but at the same time he misses you…He loves you as always, but... to recognize his mistakes? Not at all. God, what a stubborn man he is.”

“Leave him, Tim. We will get used to all this.”

“It's not normal!” He looked at his siblings and lowered his voice, “It's not normal. You were the most solid couple I knew, I never saw other people who loved each other as much as you two did. Come back again and end all this madness.”

“No, not yet Timothy. I'm hurt, and he is too. He already told me, we will live fighting again, for anything. The children would continue giving problems and we would not know what to do but discuss. In this way we are fine.”

“Fine? Mom, have you seen yourself? I don't think you even sleep.”

“No, it costs me a lot.”

“Dad is the same.”

She shook her head, returning to the wash.

“I don't want him here. I want him, because I miss him, but I don't want to go back to what we were before. And you already said it, he doesn't recognize his mistakes, and I don't think I recognize mine either. So what for? Let the memory be that, two people who loved each other so much and not two strangers who live in the same house and hate each other.”

Timothy put the last plate on the counter, sighing.

“I guess I must accept it.”

“We all have to do it.”

***

That night she slept restlessly, like every night. She was cold, and it was raining outside. She wondered if Patrick wasn't going to be on a call at this hour, if he was sleeping or just lying down.

It hurt to remember Tim's words. Patrick was devastated. She hurt him, because he hurt her earlier. They had been alone for a few days, but it felt like an eternity. She turned once more, covering up to her chin. 

She should get used to living without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi people, thanks for no killing me haha! And thanks for your comments and kudos.  
> My friend Kitty90s is new in AO3, if you want to read her works, feel free to visit her profile. She will post her fanfiction about a lot of series and films, so you will have a good time reading her stories.  
> See you soon in the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't try to understand Shelagh, she is a confused woman, and my job is that, that she stop being the perfect person and with everything under control as we always see her.  
> I want to dedicate this to @RachelAnneWrites, thanks for your support!

Tim left London, and Shelagh knew he left with the feeling of not having fixed anything. He promised to return very soon, a control of what his parents were doing, and a vigilance to the safety of his siblings so that Patrick and Shelagh with their foolishness would not break it again and again. He left angry, as were the other children as well. But Shelagh knew that if she and Patrick weren't separated, Tim would also have left the house angry, or perhaps furious at the daily situation.

The children distracted by their older brother gave her time to think. She loved Patrick and that was why she felt so strange away from him, and apparently he felt the same way. Did he still love her? Or was it just the habit of being together? She wanted to ask him, but did not dare to listen to his answer.

But Timothy left and she feared that everything would return to the previous chaos. So she was surprised when, several days later, her three children seemed calm.

Angela was especially closer, and while she wasn't talking about Robert, Shelagh was sure the girl was still seeing him. She decided not to bring it up, and was glad when one Saturday morning Angela offered to come with her to the post office to send the drawings to the printer.

Along the way they chatted about school, about clothes they saw in the shop windows, and of course, about the drawings. The girl was delighted with her mother's decision and loved the folder she carefully prepared. Shelagh was happy about this new reunion with her daughter, and promised to take care of the restored relationship.

Teddy, meanwhile, kept complaining about the math classes with the teacher Shelagh got for him. Patrick had taken the responsibility of taking him to class and bringing him back home. The lessons were in a central location and away from Poplar, and also Patrick and Shelagh feared that little Teddy would escape. Shelagh smiled when after the first class her son told her that he had gone out to eat something with his father, before he got back home. She knew that Patrick was trying, in his own way, to spend more time with his son.

Advances in her two children brought concern in the most correct and obedient member of the family: May. 

She was still as quiet as ever, and her grades had improved even more. She was the perfect girl if only Shelagh didn't know the truth behind her.

May had filled her days with activities: drama club, sports, music, literature, school journalism, and helped out in church. The few hours she was home, May remained locked in her room, her head stuck in the books, studying nonstop. She said she wanted to go to university and graduate with honors, but while May was always brilliant, Shelagh could see something else behind her daughter's intense activity.

She concluded that her daughter had found a refuge at school, the way to be away from home. When her siblings drained their frustration on their mother or in bad grades, she did the opposite to go unnoticed. Shelagh was sure that no teacher would ever call her or Patrick to tell them that their daughter studied too much and that was strange. They would do it for Angela with some bad rating, or with Teddy and his fistfight, but never with May.

Like Patrick, her daughter had found an escape in the overload of work. She had to stop that, before the girl ended in a collapse.

She dialed Patrick's number. She still had to read it from the phone book. She should never have read his number to communicate with him, but things were different now.

His sleepy voice told her this Saturday he was taking a day off.

“Something happened?” He asked worried when he recognized her voice.

“No, Patrick. I just wanted to talk to you about May.”

“Is she ill?”

“No. I've been watching her these past few weeks. Something happens to her, she has the best grades, she attends all the activities that you can think of.”

“And that is bad? Shelagh, of all our children she is the only one who doesn't give us problems.”

“She will if we don't help her soon. Patrick, she is getting saturated with things to do. She only studies, I think she has no friends or at least doesn't mention any, the little she talks is only about school. I think she is using this to escape what has happened here. I don't want her to end badly, she's a little girl yet.”

On the other side there was only silence.

“Patrick?”

She heard a weary sigh.

“My God, what have we done with those children?”

“Patrick, if you mean bad parents, I don't think we were.”

“But it is… She's doing what I've done so many times. What I do right now. But she's very young and...I wish she was a rebel like our Angela, at least she relieves her frustration, but May is swallowing everything, filling herself with study and work...My poor thing, what did I do?”

“Patrick is not your fault.”

“Of course it is. This girl is doing the same as me and I will not allow it.”

She smiled. Patrick's voice was no longer burdened, but full of momentum. She saw him collapse several times, she wanted him to stop working to avoid it again, but no, he did not think about him, did not think that his attitude was serious. Now he saw it in his daughter and was ready to help her. Perhaps, he would also help himself along the way.

“Patrick, has May come to see you?”

“No. Only Angela has come. Teddy is angry at his punishment, so... Oh, I have an idea!”

The tears pricked, but this time they were emotional. All of Patrick's enthusiasm was there, on the other side of the phone, and she loved him when he started planning things.

“I will leave work for a few days, even if it is in the afternoon. And you send me May. We will go out, we will go to the cinema, walks, whatever she wants. So she can miss all those activities where she has been involved. What you think?”

“It seems perfect,” she smiled, and heard him laugh.

“That little girl needs our attention and help, and we'll give it to her, Shelagh. We are her parents, we will always be with her.”

***

The peace lasted only a few more days. Shelagh tried to get May to visit her father, but the girl only said that she could not miss the theater rehearsals, nor the hockey practices, nor the school newspaper meeting.

Angela became sullen and distant again, and one night she heard her talking on the phone, hidden in her room, with a friend. Apparently, she had fought with Robert.

On a Thursday, the children ate orderly, without speaking. Since Teddy was punished without television, the device was also not turned on during meals. That angered them all, but Shelagh would not give up.

She decided to start a conversation, especially with May.

“May, dear, how was the school visit to the university?”

The girl smiled, chewing.

“Very good. I brought some brochures, I like a career in philosophy, but I really think I'll go for anthropology.”

“And what's the use of that?” Teddy asked with a grimace.

“Edward, be kinder to your sister.”

May smiled again.

“It's all right, Mom. In that career you can study different cultures. Considering where I come from, it's appropriate.”

“But do you really like it?” Angela asked. Shelagh saw her chewing hard, still looking at her plate. Something was going on inside her but she couldn't guess what.

“Yes, I really like it. I think I will learn a lot about China and its different peoples, and also about Africa and the indigenous people of America.”

“That's very nice May,” Shelagh smiled, “and if you also like philosophy, maybe you can study it after anthropology.”

The girl nodded, eating again. Shelagh wished that soon her daughter would stop being so overwhelmed and focus on enjoying her age and life more. The sound of Angela's fork falling onto the plate brought her out of her thoughts.

“I want to find my mother.”

They all looked up and looked at her. Her face was challenging, straight towards Shelagh. She felt herself trembling at that look that screamed hatred.

May looked annoyed at Angela.

“Why do you want to find her?”

“Because she's my mother.” Angela replied, still looking at Shelagh.

“I wouldn't do that,” May declared, “I don't want to search for my mother, much less find her.”

“But you should be with her, she's your mother.”

“I've been with her and still remember some things, and I don't want to repeat them. I know very well where my family is.”

“Well, I don't see it anywhere.”

“Angela.” Shelagh tried to control the timbre of her voice. She had been speechless at the interaction of both girls, wishing that May could convince her sister not to do what she feared from the moment Patrick put Angela in her arms. She did not want Angela to find her real mother, she did not want to lose her.

“What?” Angela kept looking at her, “Are you going to tell me that this is a family? My father left because you kicked him out.”

“He left alone, and we've been better since he's not here!”

She bit the inside of her cheek, helpless to hear herself say that. Talking bad about Patrick in front of her children was something she never thought she was going to do, and here she was, full of rancor, doing it without knowing why, perhaps because she was the one who had to deal with these discussions while he was calm at work or in his flat.

“I'll find my mother.” The girl said.

“Angela, that doesn't make sense. You will be disappointed, like me with my biological mother.” May looked at her sister.

“I don't care about you and your mother.”

“You're insufferable!” Teddy complained, “Mom is here, she's looking at you. Stop looking for other people.”

“You say that because you are her child,” she pointed at Shelagh with her chin, “and Dad's. You are what they were looking for and since they couldn't have you, they brought me here. I was the replacement but then you came and of course, you carry her blood. I'm a stranger, and you May, you are too.”

“Enough Angela! Stop it!” Shelagh hit the table with both hands, all the children were scared with the crash, “You know what? Do what you want!”

“Of course I'll do it.” Angela stood up, her hands resting on the table, staring at her mother, “And I will also go live with Dad, I want to be with him, not with you.”

Shelagh let her go, and looked at his children. Maybe it was time for all of them to go with Patrick.

Truth be told, she needed a little peace. She just had it for a few hours, and then these things happened, these fights and worries.

She needed someone who would listen to her, who would know in the tense situation in which she was living day after day.

She needed her mother, just as Angela needed to search for hers to get away from it all.

***

That same afternoon, Shelagh walked to the surgery. She felt strange, coming back after a long time, coming in and seeing Patrick without greeting him with a kiss and giving him his lunch.

He was at the desk, making notes behind a stack of papers. His coat was open and she swallowed: a button was missing.

His hair fell, it was long and it sure bothered him, she wanted to touch it, but she held herself back. He had more wrinkles than the last time she saw him, and he looked frustrated as he wrote quickly. Despite everything that was happening between them, seeing him there, sitting with the sunlight coming through the window, worried and busy, made her stomach jump and her legs pricked to run to him.

She loved him, as much as ever.

He looked up but didn't smile like he always did. He just frowned.

“Shelagh.” He said as a greeting, a dry and curt greeting.

She licked her lips.

“Good morning, Patrick.” Her voice was sharp too, provocative. Her illusion for him had disappeared when she saw him sullen again with her.

He sighed.

“Yes, good morning Shelagh. Something happens?”

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Sure.” He indicated the chair in front of him, without stopping writing, “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing serious. I came to talk to you about your proposal with May.”

“I've been waiting for your call this week.”

“She didn't want to go. I don't know if they are excuses, but she said that she had to fulfill many things.”

“Maybe they are excuses, or maybe not. I understand her attitude.”

He put down his pen and looked at her.

“It will cost a little for her to change that and she realizes that doing thousands of things at once will hurt her.”

“Yes, I know. There's another thing. Angela…”

“Shelagh, not again, leave her with that boyfriend!”

“We argue, but don't argue about her boyfriend.” She felt her anger raise when he interrupted, “In fact I think she is no longer with him. She wants to live with you.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows.

“With me?”

“Yes. It's clear that she prefers you.”

He took a deep breath, nodded.

“Fine, but I'll make her see you every day.”

“You have to promise me that you will take care of her.”

“Shelagh, I'm her father.”

“She needs warm and healthy food every day, breakfast, clean clothes, help with her homework… I don't know if you will give her that.”

“Shelagh! Of course I will!”

“When? You're always here.”

“Don't start with that.”

“Doctor?”

A pretty young nurse, too much for Shelagh's standards, was at the door.

“Yes?” He replied with annoyance.

“We will need help with Ms Thompson's delivery.”

“I'm going.”

The girl disappeared, but Shelagh made no move to leave.

“Patrick, I need you to stay with the kids this weekend.”

“The three?”

“Yes, the three. They are your children too.”

“I know, I know, but is something wrong?”

“I want,” she corrected herself, “I need to see Sister Julienne.”

“Is she bad?” He leaned across the desk, looking alarmed.

“No. I'm bad.”

He leaned back in the chair, looking down and fiddling with the pen.

“I'm bad too. But anyway, that doesn't matter. Will you go this weekend?”

“Yes.”

He shrugged.

“I suppose that two days with them will not be so terrible.”

She glared at him. Why was he saying these things?

“They are always with me, you know? Do you have other plans for this weekend and feel that they will be an annoying obstacle?” She stood up, clutching her bag.

“Shelagh, of course not.” He imitated her, but without looking at her.

“After this, perhaps Angela will no longer return home. Patrick I need to know that you will take care of her.”

“I'll do it. She is my daughter, you know I love her. She'll be alright.”

She nodded. She was going to thank him, but stopped. They were his children, he had to take care of them. They were his responsibility too.

***

On Friday night Patrick came home. She was glad to see him, the rough edges of the previous day were partially erased. He was smiling, relaxed and well groomed and dressed. Angela jumped straight at him, taking him by the arm, May followed behind, always shy but also happy. Teddy just snorted.

“Son, it won't be so bad.” Patrick clapped him on the shoulder, “I promise I won't cook.”

Edward smiled, more convinced.

“Kids, here are your bags.” Shelagh handed them their things, which they eagerly took.

“Mom, tell Sister Julienne that I miss her very much. This is for her.” Angela handed her an envelope, she guessed there would be a drawing.

“I will tell her, my love.”

She hugged her children and the three of them went straight to their father's car.

She was left alone with Patrick in the living room.

“Will you go tomorrow?”

“Yes, on the first train. I want to arrive early so as not to disturb the sisters.”

“Do you want me to take you to the station?”

She shook her head. His gaze was friendly, his voice soft.

“No, thanks Patrick, I'll take a taxi. Please take care of the children. Try not to fight.”

“Calm down, we will have a good time.” He took a few steps towards the door, she followed him.

“Please don't scold or yell at them, they are a little sensitive about everything.”

“I don't think there is a need for that. They are excited. Although perhaps it's only because now we'll go to the cinema.” He smiled when he saw the three huddled in the car. Teddy honked but his sisters strangely scolded him.

“I'm sure they are also excited to be with you.”

“I hope so.” He sighed and turned to see her. He had stepped down a step and was almost level with her. Other times they would have taken advantage of the close proximity to kiss. “Shelagh, take good care of yourself. Will you give my regards to Sister Julienne?”

“Yes.” She smiled. Then, unable to react, she saw him lean down and kiss her on the cheek.

“See you, Shelagh.” He said before almost running towards the car, “Hey children! Do we buy popcorn or sweets?”

***

She squeezed her hands and fingers as she rode the cold and almost empty train. She felt a little strange traveling completely alone.

Each turn of its wheels brought her closer to who was a support in her life, and now she was afraid to see her. Sister Julienne was not ill but Shelagh knew that the years took their toll on her. The truth is that she was terrified of Sister Julienne's gaze when she told her what was happening.

She arrived with a screeching of wheels and slowly descended, enjoying the air of the fields swirling at the station. She decided to walk to the Mother House, it was far but the walk would do her good. Along the way, she imagined what the other sisters would say, what Sister Julienne would think when she saw her alone and without her children. Thinking of them made her smile, she hoped they had a good morning with their father.

She remembered Patrick the night before, as handsome as ever, as warm and cheerful around his children. She remembered the little kiss he left on her cheek. It was not a kiss "by obligation" like the ones he gave her before separating. Now they were free and alone and there was no such obligation, and yet he kissed her and she was, again, caught in his nets. She loved him so much and at the same time she felt self-hatred for falling so easily at the slightest gesture of love.

She arrived at the Mother House, a couple of unknown nuns were chatting in the sun.

“Good morning, I came to visit Sister Julienne.”

One of the nuns looked her up and down, then looked at her little bag.

“Will you stay here?”

“Yes, I come from London. I'll only be here a couple of days.”

“She is inside, in the kitchen.” Said the other nun, “Do you know where it is?”

“Of course.” She tried to smile at them, although the two nuns did not take their cold and analytical gaze away from her. She knew that weekend she should face a few looks like that. It had been a long time, the nuns who knew her were almost all dead. Shelagh was now an unknown lay woman with a past also unknown to all these new women. She wondered if that was good or bad.

She found Sister Julienne making little cakes in front of the big kitchen table. Another nun was further away, heating pans. Shelagh smiled to find who was almost everything in her life, standing firmly, her brow furrowed in concentration and her sleeves rolled up, her fingers agile on the dough.

“Sister?”

She saw the woman smile, long before turning to see her.

“My dear Shelagh!” She said as she reached out to take her in a tight hug. Shelagh clung to her, smelled her scent that reminded her of safety and home. Being with her mother, all her strengths were broken.

“What happens?” Sister Julienne said, pulling away to look at her.

“Oh, Sister!” Was all she could answer before breaking into tears.

***

“Take this, it will do you good.” Sister Julienne gave her an aspirin pill and a glass of water.

They were in her cell, a small bright room with a narrow bed in which Shelagh was sitting. She swallowed the pill and the water.

“Do you feel better?”

She shrugged her shoulders. Aspirin could solve her nerves, but not her life.

Sister Julienne sat next to her, stroked her back gently. Despite the years, the sudden task of having to take care of someone had given her back the agility and speed of a professional nurse. Shelagh smiled barely realizing that.

“Shelagh, tell me what happened. Why are you here?”

She took her handkerchief, wiped her eyes under the glasses, and settled them on her nose.

“I thought that over the years I would stop depending on you, but it seems I can't grow.”

“Shelagh don't say that. We all need someone to listen to us. Tell me what happened.”

“My home is a disaster. I have lost them all. And I have separated from Patrick. We will get divorced.”

She took another sip of water. She waited for some kind of surprise exclamation, but it didn't happen. On the contrary, Sister Julienne took her hands, as she had so many years ago in the Nonnatus chapel, when Shelagh cried the same way and for the same man.

“There is no third person,” she continued, “But there are too many things in between.”

“When did this happen?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“But when did it start?”

“I don't know. Years maybe. I feel like I totally failed.”

“Shelagh, I know very well what you've been through, and the obstacles you had never meant failure. You always found joy in the end.”

“But now there is no joy. I just see empty. Everything changed, we were always so perfect and suddenly...I guess that's the problem, we were fine for a long time and now it's all over. We treat each other badly, I can't stand him continuing to work, he can't stand me doing other things, the kids can't stand us and so on all the time.”

“Families always have their ugly things…”

“Not mine. My family was beautiful. There were problems but we overcame them and we were happy. But the children grew up, Tim left, Patrick and I are older…”

“Shelagh, you're still very young, and he is too.”

“I think this is a punishment for what I did. God gave me a taste of happiness and then took it from me, as I did with Him.”

“That is your problem. Shelagh, I think you could never leave the guilt for leaving the Order. You said it when Tim got sick, when you couldn't conceive...God didn't punish you for your life change. This is simply life, which goes on with its things.”

“Patrick reproached me for that. That I always felt guilt, that he was never enough…”

The nun did not answer anything, continued stroking her back.

“And then I asked for a divorce. Because it was me, sister, who said it. And now I'm sorry because I miss him so much, but he continues with his terrible attitudes, and I don't want to see him ever again. And I'm so confused! The worst thing is that children suffer. I'm making the people I love the most suffer all the time!”

She burst into tears again. When she calmed down a bit, Sister Julienne brushed a few strands of hair from her face.

“Tell me Shelagh, did you tell Patrick everything?”

“Everything? What do you mean?”

Sister Julienne said nothing, just looked at her. She knew well what she meant. The nun heard it from her mouth when she was just a novice. There were trauma in her childhood, there were mistakes by her father, there was death and an absent mother and a lonely life.

Patrick knew that too, but she never told him about her wishes to never make her father's mistakes, or that she wanted to be the perfect mother she didn't have. Her search for the ideal family, her passion to prevent her children from going through what she went through, was translated into demands to Patrick, regardless of the arguments. 

She did not want him to continue working, she wanted him to tell her about his past, she wanted, wanted, and wanted.

Things were getting a little clearer now, but her heart was filled with darkness: she was the guilty for everything.

She tried to defend herself.

“Patrick knows it, but he never realized that all that made me who I am, or rather, made my defects. He didn't see it, he didn't pay attention to me…”

“Don't blame him for everything, my dear.” Sister Julienne smiled, interrupting her weak allegation, “I know, he's been distracted. His work was always in front of everything, and I will not deny that sometimes it worried me. When he was a widower and worked day and night, putting his health and Timothy at risk. And then, in the first months of your marriage, we spoke with Sister Evangelina because we saw that you were very alone, that he did not accompany you as he should.”

“Did you talk about it?”

“Oh yes, you know how she was, she wanted to make claims to your husband and she told me that we had done very badly in letting you marry him.”

They both smiled at the memories of Sister Evangelina.

“That sounds like her. But I was trying to be an independent person, not be tied to him. I had to find myself.”

“And you did it wonderfully, like everything you have done.”

“Now I don't see anything wonderful.” She sighed.

“Why didn't you work anymore?”

Shelagh shrugged.

“With Patrick we wanted to spend more time at home, travel, go on holidays as I always wanted and we never could. So I retired, and he of course didn't. Besides...sister, everything has changed a lot now. I felt like a useless old-fashioned old lady in front of all those young graduates. Before, the girls who just arrived at Poplar had a bad time, because the lack of experience was deadly there. Now they know so much, they are so prepared with the latest knowledge and advances...The experience that I may have is no longer useful if I have no idea of the latest technologies.”

“But Shelagh, you were always the best.”

“I was. Now without specialization in the university you are nobody. And when I wanted to do it, Patrick wouldn't allow me.”

“Why?”

“Because of my age, money, and I suppose also because of his whim. He wants to decide everything, as if I were his daughter, or as if I were the silly girl I was when I married him. That bothers me so much, that feeling of domination that he always wants to have and…”

“Shelagh.” Gently, with a smile, Sister Julienne unleashed the fist that had curled as Shelagh spoke and her anger at him grew, “Don't hate him. He is a man, and he is used to giving orders.”

“But sister!”

“Yes, you're right, he is not who to order you. All of us here do well without a man, we are independent. He shouldn't have denied you that, and everything you wanted. He must learn to give in, and listen to you. Tell me, is there something you have denied him?”

“Me? Sister, I gave him everything!” She looked at her indignantly, but Julienne continued with her beatified smile, a smile that told Shelagh that Julienne knew all her defects very well.

Shelagh sighed, kicked at the ground.

“I've been hellishly bossy. But if I wasn't, he wouldn't even change his clothes!”

“Shelagh…”

She sighed again. She felt like a scolding girl.

“The Outer Hebrides. He wanted to stay and live there when we went. In that place! How could I say yes to that madness? I promised him that we would go on holidays, but the truth is that every time he proposed it, I said no. I was afraid that he would force us to live there forever, or that he would do something crazy. But I know that he always loved that place, that he always wanted to return even if it was as a quick visit.”

“Jealousy?”

“From him, of course. Sometimes I think I'm his property, especially when new doctors appeared in the maternity home.”

“Shelagh, we are talking about you.”

She dropped her shoulders, defeated. She would never accept it, but when she was a nun, she died of jealousy with every woman she saw near him. Then, at the beginning of their relationship, she felt worse, she saw threats everywhere, even in Trixie or Jenny. All these beautiful, bold and self-confident women were perfect next to her, who was pale and with a lifetime of denial to carnal pleasures. She did not distrust Patrick, but feared that any woman would seduce him and take him away. Over time the jealousy diminished, as she felt more secure with herself and with him, but lately they had resurfaced. He was still handsome and prestigious, and she was plain and simple, an old woman.

There were discussions of jealousy, yes, but she recognized that at least half were initiated by her.

_ Distrust. _ That Patrick reproached her several times, while she tried to guess where he had been and what he smelled like.

There were so many things she had been wrong about and it was only now that she could see them clearly.

“Yes.” She finally admitted, “There are few things that I have not been able to control in my life, and one of them is jealousy.”

“Anything else?”

“The work. And I think that's it. He…never asked for much. My poor thing.”

Sister Julienne laughed a little.

“My dear, I think you still love him very much but you are covered with pain and anger towards him. But don't blame yourself. You are taking an important step thinking about what you failed, and that will serve so that you can forgive him and forgive yourself.”

“But sister, he is not here, you are not with him so that he can also see reason. What if he doesn't ask for forgiveness, if he doesn't recognize what he did wrong?”

“Let us trust that he will do that.”

***

On Sunday, Sister Julienne did not get up. She felt a little bad and that alarmed Shelagh, although a doctor's visit confirmed that it was only a passing indigestion.

Shelagh remained next to her bed, and she did not eat lunch for fear of facing the other nuns. She knew that they continued to look at her with curiosity and suspicion, despite the fact that Mother Mildred introduced her to everyone and chatted a lot with her. She had to lie, tell that she was only there as a visitor and that nothing afflicted her, and the nun pretended to believe her.

She was reading, distracted, a magazine she had put in her travel bag, when she saw Sister Julienne move a little. She immediately stood up.

“Shelagh? Are you here?”

“Yes, sister, here I am.” The nun smiled as she reached out for her. Shelagh cradled Julienne's hand in hers.

“Didn't you go to church today?”

She lowered her head, denied.

“What happens, dear?”

She sighed, shaking her head again. She did not know how to tell this, how to say it considering what she was in the past. But she knew Julienne would understand her, as she always did.

“Is it wrong if I say that God is no longer a priority in my life?” She licked her lips, not believing what she had just said. She rushed to explain better, “I mean…Before He was, and now…I seem drowned in my problems and I don't see Him as a way out. I take my Bible and just...I don't know.”

“What you say is not bad, Shelagh. You have a family, sometimes religion starts to fall apart, and it's normal. For some reason, religious sisters don't have children or husbands. Focusing on God takes time, and a family takes that away from you.”

“But years ago…”

“Years ago you did it in a way, and now that changed. Don't think this is a punishment, I already told you. Little by little you will find comfort. Now tell me, did you bring pictures of your children? I'm dying to see them.”

“Of course!” She smiled widely and opened her bag.

She helped her sit up and covered her with a thicker blanket. Julienne was pale and thin, her face full of little wrinkles. She took the photos Shelagh gave her, her smile filling the room.

“Oh! Look how big they all are!”

“Yes, they are all almost adults now and they give headaches. This is sent by Angela.”

Julienne smiled as she opened the envelope. The drawing was an exact copy of a photograph that Shelagh had kept, and she did not know how Angela had found it: in it was Julienne, with a baby Angela dressed in pink on her lap, and Shelagh behind, standing and smiling.

Shelagh made efforts to hide her tears. There were three generations, although none were united by blood, they were united by love.

“And you think that girl doesn't love you anymore.” Julienne looked at her, still stroking the drawing.

“It's hard to believe it when she says she wants her real mother.”

“This will pass, Shelagh. She wants to look for her origin and she has that right. How about Tim? You tell me he was dating a girl.”

“Yes, but I think he has the same problems as his parents. I just want him to be happy, but it seems that he isn't with that girl and that worries me a little.”

“All mothers want our children to be happy.” Julienne took her hand, and squeezed it, “Shelagh, I need you to be happy. I don't know when I'll leave this world, but when that happens I want to have that certainty.”

A knot tangled in her throat, she tried to swallow hard.

“I don't know how to do it, sister.”

“Take your time my dear. Search in your heart. If you still love him, take care of that love.”

“That's why we separated, so as not to hurt ourselves anymore.” The tears began to flow, “But I think it was worse, because I miss him so much, and everything is so strange and difficult without him. I feel like I was before I left the Order, longing for and loving him in silence, only this time good and bad things have happened in between. And...I feel like nothing makes sense if I don't share it with him.”

“Take your time, Shelagh. Let your heart guide you, like that time.”

***

She returned home feeling better, although she knew that her life was still in chaos.

In the mailbox she found several letters to Patrick, she had to call him to change the address. Thinking about it only made her feel pain.

There was only one with her name, and it had the letterhead of the printing press.

She quickly opened it and read.

She put her hand to her mouth, smiling. They had accepted her.

She had a job.

They would call her in the week to fill in details and give her more information, but the job was hers. There was even a congratulation for her drawings. She smiled, she was good at something.

She placed the letter on the table, and began pulling the clothes out of her bag, still thinking about Sister Julienne's words. It had been a relief to see the woman she considered her mother and counselor. Julienne had predicted good luck with this new possible job, now she had it. Shelagh decided that she would write to her as soon as she had time, announcing the good news.

The doorbell rang, and she heard giggles. She knew her children were there.

She opened the door and May and Teddy entered. Behind them, Patrick looked at her with a rueful face.

“I'm sorry, Shelagh.” He said, taking a step forward.

“Why?”

“Angela wants to stay with me.”

“Oh well, I knew this could happen.” She tried to smile, but totally failed, “Do you want to come in?”

“Just a minute, Teddy wants to show me something in his room.”

Patrick entered and she went to the kitchen.

Her daughter had abandoned her. She knew Angela was with his father, very close and protected, but she was not with her. She wanted to cry, but Patrick and May were there, the girl talking about the amazing things they had done over the weekend.

They had a good time.

Perhaps, after all, it was her mistake. Her children were happy with their father, but with her they seemed miserable, like her husband.

She felt a familiar warmth taking one of her elbows.

“Shelagh.”

She shuddered at his whisper and turned, trying to smile and again failing.

“Do you want tea?” Her voice came out strangled and broken.

“No Shelagh, I don't want anything. I know you, please don't feel bad about this. Angela will return, she loves her mother. And things were not as May tells them, there was also some friction between them, and with me. They don't prefer me, they will always want to be with you.”

“I wish I could believe it.” She blurted, “I just see that everyone is happy without me.”

“Don't say that, Shelagh, it's not true. I'm very unhappy.”

She looked into his eyes.

“Patrick.” She begged. He denied with his head.

“I won't come back, it won't work.”

“I can apologize for everything I did wrong, but you must also…”

“Shelagh this is not the time. Tell me, how is Sister Julienne?”

She swallowed hard, sniffed. She knew it was no use trying to speak when he clearly did not want to. That angered her, at some point they should talk about everything and she was willing to apologize and promise things. But he would not. He would not make the slightest effort to change.

“Patrick, why are you changing the subject?" You always do the same.”

He made a half smile.

“You see it? We always started to argue.”

“I'm not arguing, I just want you to answer me. Is it so difficult for you to speak?”

She watched him walk away, and walk towards the table. Two seconds ago she wanted him to come back, now she wanted him to leave at once. He saw and took the envelope, and she hurried to take it from him. He looked at her puzzled.

“I don't want you to look at it. And you should change your address, I got a lot of letters for you, they are in the mailbox, you can take them when you leave.”

Teddy appeared on the stairs.

“Dad are you coming?”

“Yes, now I'm going up.”

The boy left and Patrick looked at Shelagh.

“Is it from the printing press?”

“Yes. They gave me the job.” She stuffed the envelope into her jacket pocket.

He smiled.

“Congratulations, that's great.”

“Patrick, don't lie to me. I know you are not happy with this.”

“God!” He exclaimed, taking his head in his hands, “Shelagh I swear I make the effort but you throw everything down.”

“You make efforts? Which? Until a minute ago you didn't even bother to start a serious conversation.”

“I'm telling you that I think it's great that you have that job and that you have been chosen, why are you telling me that you don't believe me? All right, I didn't behave well when I told you I didn't want to! Now I am telling you that it is very good! What else do you want? Do you want the Queen to give you a medal?”

“If she gave it to me, you wouldn't want me to accept it!”

“That's why you want to talk, to reproach me for things!”

Sister Julienne's words echoed in her head. May she and God forgive her, but it was impossible to have patience and follow the heart when the heart wanted...this. She wasn't willing to accept Patrick like that.

“Go away Patrick. I don't want to keep listening to you.”

He looked offended at her, nodded.

“Of course I'll go.”

“Again?” May looked at them disgusted from the door, “And I thought you would get along better now…”

The girl went upstairs, Teddy looked out again.

“Dad, don't come. I'll show you my ship model the day you stop arguing, that is, never.”

They both sighed.

“Sorry, Teddy.” Shelagh said. The boy left without answering.

“I should better go. I have work to do.”

She saw Patrick leave, this time she didn't follow him.

***

On Monday morning she took the bus to the university. She tried not to think about anything and let herself be rocked by the movement of the vehicle. She focused her eyes on the people who got on the bus, those who got off, those who walked the streets. She felt nervous and clutched her bag with her hands.

She would enroll in the specialization. She was determined. Now she had a job and study, like when she was eighteen years old. She was also just as alone.

She opened the bag, counted again that she had all the papers she needed. She closed it and looked out the window again. She tightened her scarf to her neck, then released it a little due to the heat of her nerves.

The bus stopped at a traffic light and she was surprised to see Patrick's car. It was the West End and he hardly ever traveled there. Maybe it was just another car, but she saw him come out, smiling.

She turned in the seat, to see better. Patrick walked to the door of a building, from which a young girl with red hair came out.

The bus started again, and Shelagh caught a glimpse of Patrick and the young woman going to the car, smiling and chatting. She stood up, walked down the bus aisle to get off right there, but it was no use for her to say she wanted to get off. The bus continued until the next stop, and when she got off, Patrick's car was gone.

She looked everywhere, walked in circles, but did not find it.

She crossed the street without looking, heard the sound of horns, and came to a park where people were walking or chatting in the sun.

She found a bench and sat down. She loosened her scarf. Beside her, a group of children walked on skates, she smiled at them barely. 

Unintentionally, a tear fell. And then another, and another.

She lost him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! If you still want to read this, thank you very much!  
> And you will ask, why are these people fighting so much? Well, because they are a couple! And I think deep down, they still love each other.

She decided to walk to her house. The road was quite long, but she didn't care, she needed air, she needed to get tired in such a way that it was impossible to remember what she had just seen. The pain in her feet would make her forget the pain in her heart. 

They had been separated for a few days, but Patrick already had another woman, perhaps he had her from earlier. And she was a pretty young woman.

She pushed away a sneaky tear, she didn't want more people to see her crying.

She came home tired and sweaty, but lying on the bed to cry was not in her plans. She sat down at the kitchen table, staring at the opposite wall as she caught her breath. Then she stood up, opened the door of the cupboard, and took out the whiskey bottle that had been there for years, barely touched a few times to share with the guests.

She poured a glass, which she swallowed without breathing. She poured another and rolled up the sleeves of her blouse. She looked at herself, she was well dressed, she prepared herself for the occasion that Patrick had ruined.

Now she didn't care if her clothes got dirty or wrinkled, she would buy another one.

She took the glass of whiskey and put it on the table, then ran the sofa and the armchairs, and armed with brooms and mops, began to clean as if her life depended on it. 

Each movement was made with force, while some tear slowly came down and she pushed it away with her gloved hands, dirtying her glasses in the process.

When the living room and kitchen were brighter than ever, she dropped onto the couch. Everything smelled of bleach and disinfectant, everything was free of dirt and bacteria, and she prayed that her heart was too, but despite feeling drained and dirty, and although her eyelids were losing the battle and beginning to close, the image of Patrick smiling at another woman who was not her, was there, permanent, etched into her head.

“I hate you Patrick, I hate you so much, and I love you so much, and I hate you…”

More tears fell. Everything she thought would be useless to get him back and re-arm the family they had. Everything was lost, he had taken his way, and she should take hers. He didn't love her, it was clear. And if he didn't love her, nothing made sense.

Sister Julienne asked her to follow her heart, to try to find her mistakes but it was completely useless to do that if Patrick continued his life away from her.

She reviewed the image again, now she felt more pain when she realized that he would be smiling at that woman, telling her about his day, his bad jokes, showing her his musical tastes and a lot of other things. Patrick would be being Patrick but with another woman.

She leaned back on the couch, pulled her legs up, and curled up. She was cold and sleepy, she wanted more whiskey but she didn't have the strength to stand up and walk towards the kitchen.

The doorbell rang, startling her in a way that made her hear the heartbeat in her ears. She looked at the clock, it was early, the children were still at school.

She heard the bell again and sat down, running her hands over her face. She staggered to her feet and crawled to the door. She knew that she would look very bad, but whoever it was she would quickly fire it saying that she felt ill.

When she opened the door, she froze when she saw what she saw: Patrick was there, with the red-haired woman.

“What…?”

He smiled gently, even though his first reaction was fear or concern.

“Shelagh, this is Kate. She is Tim's girlfriend.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Turner.” The girl smiled, clutching the bag that hung from one of her shoulders, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I...uh...hello Kate.” Shelagh smiled, or at least tried to do that. Her head was spinning, and she could hardly stop looking at Patrick, who was still there, impeccable, standing and smiling with that proud father gesture that she had seen many times.

“Kate came to London last night to take a couple of classes at the university with a prestigious professor. I called to tell you but nobody answered the phone.”

“I was…I went to the market. Come in.” She smiled again, stepping aside. 

When she closed the door, she ran her fingers through the hair, she was sure it looked messy and matted. 

She looked at Kate, she was a thin and friendly young woman. Shelagh had seen a couple of photos but in them Kate was blonde, apparently she had changed her hair color.

She removed her glasses and wiped them on the edge of her blouse, and when she put them on, she looked at Kate more closely: she was undoubtedly the young woman she saw with Patrick. Relief and stupidity ran through her veins. He had no other woman, and she had cried and tortured herself thinking that.

“Mrs. Turner, your house is splendid!” The girl exclaimed looking everywhere, with a fixed and nervous smile on her face. Patrick invited her to sit down and he sat down on the couch, exactly in the same place that Shelagh had occupied minutes before crying for him.

“Thank you Kate, I was cleaning, that's why my appearance.” Her apologetic smile was the same as Kate's, riddled with nerves and bewilderment.

“Your appearance? You are beautiful. Sorry I came this way, but Tim told me so much about you two that I wanted to meet you. And yesterday he told me that he would call his father to pick me up at the hotel today and take me to see some places” Kate looked at Patrick, she was hesitant and a little afraid, “I hope not to be a bother.”

“My dear, how are you going to be a bother? I just have cake, do you want tea?”

“Of course, it would be very nice. I...bought chocolates. I didn't want to come empty-handed.”

Kate opened her bag and took out a red box with a gold bow.

“You should not do it.” Patrick took the box and opened it, “Oh they look delicious!”

Kate laughed, her laugh was a little jingle bell. Shelagh looked at her, she did not know that Timothy decided to continue with the girl, but now she saw why he could not leave her. Kate was beautiful, young, friendly, with a pair of bright black eyes and a perfect toothy smile. Any boy would do everything for her.

“They are from a bakery that they told me is very famous in London, their most frequent client is Paul McCartney.”

“Without a doubt Paul has good taste.” Patrick was already gobbling up one of the chocolates, and Shelagh couldn't help but smile at his hungry sweet-tooth gesture.

She went to the kitchen to make tea, hearing that Patrick was still chatting with Kate about a couple of places they visited before they got home.

She felt her body sweaty again and rapidly cooling, after the despair had disappeared. Her hands were still shaking a little, but she breathed several times. That girl was just Tim's girlfriend, nothing more, and she was a nice girl, and Patrick talked to her like he was her father. There were no dangers.

“Have you been drinking?”

She almost jumped when she heard Patrick's voice behind her. She turned, he held the bottle of whiskey, and looked at the empty glass on the table.

“What's wrong with it?” Her voice was scathing. He just shrugged.

“Nothing, it's just too early to drink, Shelagh.”

Without saying anything else, he walked to the cupboard and put the bottle there. Then he placed the glass in the sink.

“The tea is ready, can you bring the cake? It's on the fridge.”

Patrick lowered a platter and removed the napkin that covered it. Very slowly he cut slices of cake that he placed on a plate.

They moved quietly around the kitchen, although Shelagh knew he was watching and analyzing her. She brushed a lock of hair from her face, and ironed her skirt with her fingers. She took the tray with the tea and went to the living room, where Kate looked at a photo of Timothy.

“Oh sorry, I was just looking at this.” She pointed to the photo on the shelf and returned to sit on the armchair.

“It's Tim, I think he was about eleven or twelve there.” Shelagh poured the tea.

“He never wants to show me photos of when he was little, he is very embarrassed.” Kate laughed.

“I suppose he's ashamed of his little legs.” Said Patrick approaching with the cake, Kate laughed louder.

“Patrick, poor thing.” Shelagh laughed too, and he turned to look at her with a wide smile that destabilized her. It had been a long time since they had joked a little, even if it was at Tim's expense.

They began to chat, Kate was as Timothy had described her, a person passionate about her work and study, anyone noticed that her life was there and she only cared about that. Shelagh felt sorry for her son, he was undoubtedly in love with such a beautiful girl, but he would also suffer for her obsession with work. 

Patrick, on the contrary, seemed enthralled by Kate and at one point Shelagh was totally out of the conversation, since Patrick's passion seemed fueled by this girl who only spoke about medicine with the same dedication as him.

But then he cleared his throat and his expression changed dramatically. He was no longer the doctor delighted to find a wise colleague.

“You know Kate, there are also other things besides work. Love, or a family, are also important, you should not neglect that.”

“Oh yes, I know it…”

“You have to…” He cut her off, “You have to balance that. You tell me that you haven't seen your parents in a long time because you don't have time, but you still have time to come to London for a couple of classes at university. And I know from Tim that you don't share much together either, beyond work and study. You're young and beautiful, you can do much more than just medicine.”

“Yes...it's true.” Kate looked down at her teacup, although it was already empty, “I should pay more attention to other things.”

“I tell you from experience. If you don't start changing that now, you'll regret it later.”

The girl nodded with a shy smile, although she had left her spontaneity to look like a frightened girl. Patrick smiled at her, cheering her on. Shelagh felt her body pull to hug Patrick but she held it back. She swallowed, hope was flooding her. Maybe Patrick was learning how things really were.

“Do you want more tea, Kate?”

“Oh no, thanks Mrs Turner, I must go now. The class will be at noon, I don't want to be late, they told me that the professor is very demanding.”

“That man doesn't forgive, I assure you.” Patrick stood up, ”I'll take you to university.”

“Thank you very much for everything, you are as kind as Tim told me. I will come back to chat more, Tim told me that he will come with me soon because he also wants to introduce me to his siblings.”

“Come whenever you want, dear.” Shelagh kissed her on the cheek and Kate left, chattering to Patrick.

Shelagh returned to the living room after saying goodbye at the door. She saw the empty cups, and the leftover slices of the cake. She smiled.

***

As she made lunch she turned on the radio. Her day started badly but then changed. Everything had a solution, and suddenly she felt like singing, so she chose a station that was playing some old songs.

She heard Patrick's car stop in front of the house and turned off the radio. She was completely sure that he was here to talk about what he had seen: the whiskey bottle, the empty glass, she in her best clothes but all scruffy and exhausted.

She mentally prepared herself for him to ask his questions and look at her suspiciously. Then she thought that if he did, it could be a sign that he still cared about her, that he still loved her.

Instinctively she straightened her hair and removed her apron, trying to look more groomed for him.

She heard two doors slam in the car and walked towards the door, because she also heard crying, and Patrick's voice hard and severe.

She understood everything when she opened the door and saw Angela, being dragged almost by the arm, while shouting all kinds of insults at her father.

Her daughter entered the house like lightning while crying and screaming.

“I hate you all! I'll look for my mother and I'll go with her!”

“I hope you find her, Angela Turner, because I don't want to see you again!”

“Patrick!” Shelagh exclaimed, looking at them both, stunned. He was irritated and furious, sweating with hatred.

“Patrick, what happened?”

“That's a good question, Shelagh,” he sighed, running his hands through his hair.

“Come in.”

From the kitchen, Angela's sobs could be heard, locked in her room. They both looked up.

“Patrick, what happened? A little while ago, you were here and everything seemed fine.”

“I returned to the flat after accompanying Kate to the university,” he said, dropping into a chair, “God, look how that girl cries, I think I hurt her, but if you had seen what I saw!”

“Patrick,” she sat across from him, trying to ignore her daughter's cry. 

He shook his head, his eyes still filled with fury but they were also wet with unshed tears.

“Shelagh, how long ago was Angela an obedient little girl? What happened?”

“If you don't tell me right now what happened, I'm going to go crazy.”

“I went back to the flat,” he repeated, agitated, looking up, from where Angela's sobs continued to be heard, “I needed to look for some folders that I forgot, Angela didn't go to class today, she felt bad for her period and I told her to stay there resting and then come to have lunch here with you. When I got back...there was that boy, Robert. Damn, I should have listened to you, Shelagh!”

Her blood ran cold as she glared at him, more furiously than before.

“Patrick by God, tell me what happened.”

“They were both on my couch, screwing like two…I don't want to remember it.”

“What?” She stood up.

“Don't worry, nothing happened. If I had taken five more minutes, yes, it would have happened. They were kissing but that bastard had his hand under her dress and she was doing nothing to stop him. Of course her period was all a lie to be alone with him.”

Patrick stood up, and walked straight up the stairs, but she got in the way.

“No, don't do it. Let me deal with her. What did you do with the boy?”

“Nothing, I pushed him out although I should have killed him. For this she wanted to live with me! Angela, come down now!”

“Leave her, Patrick, that's it."I told you, that guy was not for her, I told you a thousand times.”

“Well there you are, are you happy? You were right. I was wrong and I admit it.”

She ran her hands over her face, feeling the tears starting to come out. She wanted to scream, the family was destroying more and more. She turned to him, rage gripping her entire body. If only he hadn't left, if he had behaved like a responsible father and husband...

“You put our daughter in danger, Patrick. I told you, but you insisted with that boy, all because he studies medicine, although surely it is not true! There you go, finding your daughter sleeping with him!”

“You should have educated her better!”

“I did it, but it's very hard when her father lets her do everything that she wants!”

“Excellent, Shelagh, now this whole mess is my fault, as always you are the innocent.”

He walked to the door, but turned. He went to the living room, walked to the piano.

“Where's Marianne's photo?”

“In that drawer,” she pointed to a closet. He opened it, rummaged a bit, and took out the portrait.

“Excellent, Patrick,” she mocked, imitating him,” Excellent decision. A wife is much better when she can't answer you.”

He looked at her, the fury he had toward Angela was now all directed at her.

“You are no longer my wife.”

She swallowed hard, looking directly at him. If he expected to hurt her, she would hit him back.

“And I'm very happy about that, Patrick.” 

“You know that if Marianne hadn't died you wouldn't be here,” he hissed, she raised her chin, clenched her teeth.

“It would have been the best for both of us.”

He looked her up and down and then left, slamming the door.

When she returned to the kitchen, her whole body trembled. What did she do? What did she say? Why was everything so hurtful?

She saw Angela leaning on the stairs and all her questions disappeared.

“Come here.” Shelagh said, her voice rasping with sadness and anger.

Angela came down, her hair tangled, her dress rumpled, and dragging a half-closed backpack.

She didn't know what she was feeling, if she felt pity or wanted to slap her.

The girl took off the scarf around her neck, put it in her backpack and closed it.

“I'm going,” she whispered under the stack of hair that covered her face.

“Where are you going? You don't have anyone.”

“I'll go to Jen's. She's my friend.”

“You are not going anywhere. You're grounded, go and lock yourself in your room until I tell you to get out. I don't want to see you, Angela. What you did is terrible.”

“Because is it Robert?”

“I don't care if it's Robert or Prince Charles. You almost slept with a man, without protection, without knowing anything, in your father's house. How is it possible? Do you want to end up like your real mother? Because you want to know about her, but that's her story and you know it well. She left you because she was your age when she gave birth to you.”

She knew that she was being cruel saying that, that it was not good to use Angela's story against her, but she needed the girl to come to her senses, and nothing, no punishment, blow, or sermon would convince her of that, only her own reality.

“Look at me Angela.”

“No.”

She took her by the chin, brushed her hair away. The girl started crying again.

“Do you want to end like this? I will not give your child up for adoption, but do you want to ruin your life, your art career? Do you want the responsibility of a child now? Do you want to get sick from any illness that any of those guys have? Do you want to be used and thrown away like a handkerchief?”

“No,” Angela whispered.

“Tell me the truth Angela, were you going to do it because you wanted to or because he asked you to? If you wanted it, I can accept it. I know what happens when you are in love but you are still too young to know what you want. Answer me.”

“I don't know, mom.”

“Did he ask you that?”

“N...no…”

“Angela. Tell me the truth.”

“He asked me. You know, the boys want and...You can't refuse because they…”

She released her chin, sighing.

“I know very well what they do. Go wash your face and get into bed. You will do your homework and go down to eat when I tell you to.”

Angela nodded slowly and went upstairs.

Shelagh opened Angela's backpack, there were only some clothes, a drawing folder, and her favorite teddy bear.

She dropped into the nearest chair, and began to cry.

***

“Mom I'm leaving, bye!” May ran down the stairs, putting on a coat.

“Come here, help me with this.”

“I can't, I should go to the journalism club. Bye!”

“I don't care, you'll miss that.”

“But…”

“May I told you to help me.”

May snorted, taking off her coat and tossing it on the kitchen table.

“Keep that in its place.”

“But mom!”

“I need you to pass this flour through the sieve,” she said, handing him the things.

“It's not fair! I have to go and then work on my article, it should be ready by tomorrow!”

“You'll stay here because it is already late and this is your house. Take this and help.”

In her head it was accumulated all day, and now she could only be hard and hard, no matter if it was with her children or with whoever. There was no place to be sweet and kind, because she only had anger inside her and was making a great effort to suppress it.

Out of the corner of her eye she looked at her daughter, who was working beside her clenching the teeth and fingers.

“Im sorry, May.” Shelagh said in a whisper, “Today was terrible.”

“Angela is punished, isn't she?” May asked in a whisper.

“Yes, she replied without looking at her.”

“She already told me everything. It's terrible.”

“Yes. I hope you don't do the same.”

There was a knock on the door, Shelagh went to attend. 

Patrick was standing next to Teddy, but he wasn't looking at her. The boy jumped when he saw her mother.

“Hi Mom! The math teacher said that I'm very prepared for the next exam and that I'll surely pass it!”

“Oh darling, I needed good news! That's very good, do you see why it is necessary to ask for help? Now you'll do better in school. Go to the kitchen, help May, we are preparing a cake that I know you'll love.”

Teddy ran in, dropping his books and coat anywhere.

She looked at Patrick, who was still staring at the ground. She tried to close the door, but he looked up.

“How is Angela?” He barely asked.

“She hasn't stopped crying all day,” she sighed, “She wanted to go with a friend but I stopped her.”

Patrick nodded, scratched the back of his neck with a sigh.

“I...I'm sorry for everything I told you today, Shelagh.”

She swallowed the tears, looking away. She was hurt by him and she was also sorry. A mixture of sensations that made her dizzy, more when he was in front of her.

“I...I'm sorry too. We must focus on Angela, not our problems.”

“I know.”

They were silent, she felt a tear run so she quickly wiped it away. He kept looking at the ground.

“Robert asked her to do it.”

“I imagined it. Still, I didn't see that bothering her,” he replied dryly.

“Patrick don't be like that…”

“For God's sake, it's Angela, she's still a child, I can't accept it. A few days ago she told me that she wants to find her mother, I promised to help her, but this behavior…”

“Yes, we cannot allow it. Patrick, I don't want her to look for her mother, I know we wrote a letter when she was a baby, but now, seeing her wanting to find another mother...I just don't want to. Don't help her with that, I ask you please.”

He smirked, and she wanted to cry at that gesture of love he used to give her before. He moved closer to her, to whisper.

“I don't want to either, but if we refuse, all this will be worse. And...it's her mother.”

“Yes,” she agreed. All the events of the day seemed to fall on her and more tears came out. She was surprised to feel his arms around her, and pressed against his chest, inhaling his scent.

"Everything will be better, Shelagh," she heard. She pulled away quickly.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked nervously. His touch had destabilized her further.

“No, I'd better go back to my flat.”

“But you can come and stay for dinner and..." She felt desperate for his company. He denied with his head.

“Shelagh, no. Let's not confuse the children, we are separated. That doesn't mean that we should do what we do today, treat each other like that, but this...No.” He sighed, looking at the sky, “By God Shelagh, I love you and that's why I don't want to harm you. And today we hurt ourselves a lot. We are together for a moment and soon everything is ruined.”

“But Patrick…”

“Good night, Shelagh.”

He left, like running away from her. She wanted to call him, but his name got stuck in her throat.

***

Tim's call over dinner didn't surprise her at all. She imagined that her son would call to find out what she thought of his girlfriend.

When May and Teddy finally put down the receiver, she spoke.

“Tim, how are you?”

“Where's Angela? With Dad?”

She sighed, pressed her forehead, feeling a sudden sting there.

“No, she's here. But she is punished.”

“Oh no mom, I want to talk to her.”

“You better not talk to her, Timothy. Your sister...well, let's just say she was wrong this time.”

“Mom, what do you mean by that?”

“Your father found her with Robert about to...you know.”

To her surprise, she heard a giggle on the other side.

“Mom you could never stop being a nun, you can't even say the word "sex".”

“Timothy, she's 17 years old.”

“Well, that's…”

“No, don't tell me that now is normal because this is not normal. Not when her boyfriend, if we can call him that, proposes it to her and she knows nothing at all and agrees to do it only so that he doesn't abandon her.”

“Oh. I didn't know that, I thought she knew and that it was because they both wanted to.”

“She lied to Patrick to skip class and that her boyfriend went to see her in the flat. And when your father arrived he found them, luckily nothing had happened yet. That guy is disgusting, but your father insisted that we leave Angela with him and…”

“Mom, it's not dad's fault, it's the fault of that guy who wanted to take advantage of the whole situation Angela is living. But don't punish her, please.”

Shelagh sighed, shook her head even though her son couldn't see her.

“Your girlfriend is lovely.”

“Now you change the conversation,” he laughed,”And think that I thought I was rebellious for listening “Sympathy for the Devil” at full volume while you wanted to throw me a Bible over my head.”

“This is different, Tim. Also, at that time…”

“What? Were we happy?”

“Yes,” she barely whispered, “It didn't even really bother me. Anyway, tell me about your girlfriend.”

“I told you that I would finish everything but I love her. I can't.”

“And I'm so glad you love her, but I also want you to be happy. Your father gave her some advice.”

“Dad? Oh poor Kate. That advice must have been terrible because she didn't tell me anything about it.”

“No, it was good advice. I hope she puts it into practice, so you will be happier and she too.”

“Mom, with being as you and Dad were, I agree. Although I would not like this ending that you are having. How's that going?”

“Same, love. But you shouldn't worry.”

“But…”

“Calm down Tim, everything is fine. I must hang up now.”

After a brief farewell, she hung up the phone. She had nothing else to do, she just wanted to avoid the conversation with Tim about everything that was going on between her and Patrick.

She thought about what Patrick said to her that same night.  _ I love you and that's why I don't want to harm you. _

Did he really love her yet? If so, she had to take care of fixing everything, and he too. If there was still love, they could be together. More beaten by everything, but with love.

***

_ Ten days later. _

For the first time in a long time she was very busy with her work. The printing press sent her many orders and also, knowing that she was an experienced nurse, they proposed to make anatomy diagrams for books and course programs in schools of nursing and medicine.

All this prevented her from returning to the university to try to enroll in the specialization, but she was satisfied because her drawings improved with each stroke.

It also slowly improved the situation in the house.

Angela was better, although she did not leave her room, only to go to school, and was carried by her father. Teddy looked happier without the burden of difficult math on him, and May left the theater club claiming that she "hated the teacher" so she had one afternoon off per week that she spent watching cartoons on television or practicing new hairstyles with the help of her mother.

Shelagh never saw Patrick again, nor did she speak to him on the phone. The children came and went from his flat, except Angela. Shelagh didn't ask May or Teddy about him.

She kept missing him, feeling empty without him, but when she held a pencil it all went away and her mind concentrated on doing her best work.

“Mom, look at this.”

Teddy came in one afternoon holding a sheet of paper. There she read a big “A+” on a math test.

“My love, this is great! Congratulations!”

“Do you think I can study veterinary medicine now?”

“I never doubted it.”

He sat next to her, snuggling against her body. He was a big boy, but he still needed his mother's hugs.

“What are you drawing?”

“A cross section of a kidney.”

“It's disgusting.”

“If you are a vet you will see more disgusting things. How...how is your father?”

She wanted to know about him, Patrick always left Teddy after the math classes but did not enter the house. The boy shrugged.

“I don't know, I think he's fine. I speak to him and he pays no attention to me.”

She squeezed the pencil she was using, Patrick didn't seem to change.

“Sorry about that, my love. Dad is like that, a little distracted.”

“He's always working,” Teddy complained, and in his complaint Shelagh could hear Tim's voice at the same age. Many years had passed and things remained the same.

“He likes to work, Teddy.”

“He didn't even listen when I told him I passed my exam,” the disappointment of her son made her anger boil. She put down the pencil, forced a smile.

“Go to bathe, I'll prepare your favorite food to celebrate this achievement.”

“Perfect!” The boy ran to the bathroom and when she heard the noise of the water, she called to the surgery. It was late, but she knew Patrick was there. She told herself she was doing it for Teddy, and not for anything else.

“Turner.” She heard from the other side.

“Patrick, it's me.”

“Something happens?”

“Yes. Patrick, Teddy passed the math test and you didn't even hear it when he told you about it. Pay more attention, please. He is making a lot of effort.”

“Oh I'm sorry,” he heard a rumble of papers and Patrick's agitated voice, cursing.

“Tell him.”

“Okay Shelagh, don't start.”

“I'm not starting anything, but if you…”

“Shelagh a mother and a child died today! They died before my eyes! Do you think I can think of anything else?”

She swallowed hard. She knew perfectly well how Patrick dealt with such a situation. She was completely disconnected from the world for hours when she had to live it. By luck it happened a few times in her career, but she could perfectly remember the date, the names, even the blood smell of each one of those mothers who die giving birth to their dead or dying children. A sob went through her throat, but she thought she must be strong for him. They were separated, but they were still together on this.

“I'm so sorry Patrick.”

She heard him sniffle through his nose.

“Patrick, don't go back to your flat today. Come to dinner here.”

“No, Shelagh, I don't want to hear your reproaches.”

“Patrick you know I won't blame you for anything. Just come see your children, let them cheer you up a little. Please, I don't want you to eat alone. Let me take care of you.”

It hurt her to beg like that, but many times she did. Beg him not to leave, not to hide from himself. Maybe, a lot of times the pressure was too much for him, maybe right now she was pressing him again, and he just wanted to be alone. 

But she heard him smile, she knew he was doing it, and felt relief.

“Thanks Shelagh. I'll go there as soon as I finish here.”

***

Dinner was quiet but cheerful, Teddy kept boasting about his exam, while Patrick planned something to do with May the following afternoon, in an attempt that the girl did not go to another of his many tasks. They finally agreed to go to the amusement park.

Angela remained silent, away from her father. Shelagh saw the effort Patrick was making to distract himself with his children, but even though only funny words and smiles came out of his mouth, his eyes said otherwise.

When it was time to go to sleep, Patrick said goodbye to all of them, but called Angela to the living room.

Reluctantly, she came over and he sat her next to him on the couch and put an arm behind her. She resisted a little.

“Dad I'm already grown up.”

“I know, that's why I want us to speak like two adults.”

The girl looked at Shelagh and she retired to the kitchen, although from there she could see them while washing and drying the dishes. Angela was crying a little, hugging her father, no longer reluctant. Patrick was whispering something to her and she was nodding.

Then, with a loud kiss on her forehead, he sent her to sleep.

“I think we made peace.” He announced with a half smile, entering the kitchen.

“I'm glad to hear that. She hardly speaks to me, I don't know if she's sad or angry.” Shelagh said, putting away the last plate.

“She's sorry.”

They were silent, looking at each other. She wanted to approach him, take his hand and ask, but she would wait.

Finally he sat up, with a long, weary sigh. She stared at him, until he raised his eyes.

“Sit down, Shelagh, please.”

She sat down opposite him. He was older than ever, thin and with dark circles under his eyes. From his pocket he took out a box of cigarettes, and lit one.

“Do you want this?" He offered.

“No, smoke it.”

“We enjoyed this for a long time.”

“Yes, it all started with that,” she whispered looking at the ground. He smoked the cigarette almost completely, before speaking again.

“She was 22 years old. Her first baby. Everything seemed normal, she didn't want to go to the hospital, she wanted to stay in the maternity home. They told her that she would have a delivery as she wanted, not in a hurry. She trusted all of us. Her baby was transverse, we managed to turn it, but there was a detachment. There was no time for a caesarean section, everything went quickly. The baby was born dead. She died from the bleeding, there was no way to stop that,” he leaned back in the chair, looking at a spot on the wall, “At least she didn't know that her son died, she was already unconscious when he was born.”

“I'm so sorry, Patrick.”

He shook his head and sighed again.

“Dr. Smith was paralyzed, it was his first case like this. Nurses too. I had to comfort them all, tell them that they will end up getting used to it. Is not true.”

“No.”

Patrick sighed again, squeezed the cigarette butt in the ashtray on the table, which Shelagh pushed with her hand toward him.

“I reviewed all the cases that I also lost, those that I passed with Sister Julienne, with Trixie, Chummy...but they are gone, there was no one who understood me, who had lived the same. There's only you.”

She wanted to touch him, but she knew he would pull away.

“I'm sorry for all the damage I did to you, Shelagh. I promise to change it. You're the most valuable person I have.”

“That's not true, there are our children.”

“I can't tell them about this. They would not understand it, only you do it because many times we live it together. Sometimes I feel so useless…You are right when you tell me to stop working. I like to solve things, that drives me, that makes me help others. But in these cases, I feel miserable.”

“Patrick don't say that, if there is someone who tries hard it is you. We know that we cannot solve everything, that there are things that are out of our hands. But darling, you must take care of yourself.”

She bit her cheek at hearing herself say it.  _ Darling. _

He looked up at her.

“Shelagh.”

“Patrick is late, tomorrow I must get up early.”

“Of course, yes, I'll go.”

He stood up and put on his coat.

“Good night, Shelagh.”

“Good night, Patrick.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, quarantined life is not easy!  
> This chapter originally had more important things, but it was too long and I didn't want you to get bored. So the next part will be here soon.  
> Thanks so much for reading!  
> Arrivederci!

"Good morning, how can I help you?"

“Good morning,” Shelagh smiled at the friendly female employee, “I came to sign up for the obstetrics specialization.”

“Of course, fill out this form, you can sit there.”

Taking the sheet and a pen that the woman gave her, she sat in front of a table where a boy younger than Tim completed a form identical to hers.

She looked around, she was in university, completing a process to study, and get out of there being a better nurse and a better professional. She felt a little lonely, but that was as it should be, she had to do this alone because this was about herself, her future and her life. She looked at the boy, who was concentrated on completing his personal data in the form. She felt old and out of place, but she sighed and started writing.

It was easy to complete all the required fields, until she stumbled upon "marital status." She was not yet divorced, Patrick had not mentioned anything about his lawyer and she had not looked for one either.

So what were they?

_ "Married," _ she wrote. It was better to lie with hope, than to write  _ "divorced" _ and augur a sad future ahead.

She handed the form to the kind woman, and then opened her bag and counted the money she had collected the day before. The printing press paid promptly for her work and although it was not much money, it was just enough to make the first payment for her studies.

“You will start next week, Mrs. Turner. Classes are Monday and Thursday, in the morning and until noon.”

“Perfect,” she smiled, in her head organizing her entire schedule so that nothing interrupted the great start.

“Sign here.”

Her hand trembled as she took the pen again. When she started the familiar drawing of her signature, she stopped before writing the "T". She replaced it with the last name that her father gave her and that she had not used for years.

A long time ago, she also suffered making that signature, when she left a lifetime lived under another name. Now she was about to live another life, newer, more different, more alone.

***

When she got home, only May was there, finishing some homework. She put down her bag and coat and prepared to have tea with her daughter. She noticed that the girl was looking at her curiously.

“Mom, I see you very happy. Something happened?”

“Oh yes, yes,” Shelagh replied, smiling, setting the cups down on the table. May widened her eyes full of anticipation, completely forgetting her books and notebooks.

“What happened?”

“Well...I just enrolled in university. Next week I'll start my specialization, I'll be there for a year. I hope everything is as I imagine.”

Shelagh knew her daughter very well, so she saw the light of disappointment that crossed May's face for just a second, before the girl showed her a beautiful and wide smile. She did not understand why May could be against her mother studying, May had never mentioned anything about it. However, she allowed herself to be embraced by the girl.

“Mom, that's great!”

“Do you really think that?”

“Of course! It will be great if you study and do what you like, and meet new people.”

“Well, that scares me a little. There they are all boys and girls like you, or a little older. I'll be the grandmother of all of them.”

“Mom, don't say that. You're super young and beautiful.”

She laughed heartily, shaking her head.

“Thanks for that, my girl. Tell me about yourself, what did you study?”

“Oh, just literature. Mom, I must ask your permission for something. Well, I know that I must also ask Dad for permission, but…”

“Tell me.”

“Can I go to a party tonight?" It's a friend's birthday.”

“Which friend?”

“Bianca, you know her. She came here a few times.”

“Oh yeah, the one who fell in love with Timothy.”

“Mom!”

Shelagh laughed louder this time, seeing her daughter's outraged face.

“I saw it all over her body, that girl liked your brother. Of course you can go May, I'm glad you want to attend a party. You're old enough to do it and I trust you and that friend.”

“Thanks Mom!” May kissed her on the cheek and finished her tea quickly, to start getting ready for the party. 

Shelagh was recommending that she put on her red coat because it would be a very cold night when the phone rang.

“If it's Bianca tell her I'll go!” May exclaimed. 

Shelagh answered laughing, knowing she would hear Bianca's anxious voice, asking for her friend.

“Shelagh, I need you!”

She wrinkled her forehead, instantly recognizing the voice.

"Patrick?"

“Shelagh can you come please? I have two fewer nurses for the flu, and we are understaffed, and three mothers came to give birth. I haven't seen this for a long time and it's wonderful but we need help! Can you...?” Shelagh heard the piercing scream of a woman in labor, “Shit, I must attend to this girl, she also has twins!”

“Patrick, I'll be there soon, don't worry!”

“Will you do it?”

She hung up the phone without answering and ran to her room.

“May, darling, I must go out, your father needs me!” Shelagh began to change clothes, and dressed with trousers so she could go faster on the bike.

“Did Dad call you?”

She knew her daughter so well that she could understand May's disappointed face from a few minutes ago. May expected news like this, because her face was now lit with complicity and hope. Shelagh kissed her on the forehead.

“Yes love, he called me. He needs help, there are several mothers and few staff. I'll be back in a little while, I'll help you with your hair.”

“Don't worry about it, take the time you need, mom.”

Shelagh smiled as she recognized joy in May's voice.

She prayed that her bike had no flat tires, but Angela had been using it, so it was in perfect condition. She pedaled as fast as she could, dodging cars and distracted people. She had not done that for years, she felt the weight of time on her knees, but the adrenaline mixed with the cold wind hitting her face brought back many memories that drove her to go faster.

When she arrived she left the bicycle lying on the ground and entered the Maternity Home.

“Thanks God!” Patrick exclaimed as soon as he saw her and handed her a robe. His eyes were filled with relief, she couldn't help but smile at him.

“Where do I go?”

“Mika Drovsky, Polish, 25 years old, is her second child and the husband is at sea,” he said as he opened the door of a room where a blonde girl had a face full of tears, “Needless to say, she's very scared, she never came to any control. I know you'll manage to calm her down.”

“I'll try,” Shelagh sighed.

Patrick nodded and looked at the young woman.

“Mika, I'll leave you with the best professional in London. She's my wife, I know she will take care of you.”

Shelagh smiled and trembled. Many times Patrick called her that, embarrassing her but making her feel proud and loved. He had also said "my wife". He still considered her that way, as she still felt married to him when she completed the university form that same afternoon.

She looked at him as he smiled, before leaving, at the frightened girl babbling a precarious English. She left her thoughts to focus on the poor mother.

“Very well Mika, we will be calm here while we wait for your baby. I'll see how many centimeters of dilatation you have and if this child is naughty or not.”

The girl complained as Shelagh checked her out. Shelagh smiled at her.

“Well, we have a baby eager to meet his mommy. You're already dilated enough, so I need you to push very gently, yes? Slow, slow, and slow.”

The young woman obeyed, complaining a lot.

“I know it hurts love, I also went through this.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, a long time ago but that is never forgotten," Shelagh smiled at her, "Very well, another little push."

She could see the head crowning and soon she could take it between her fingers.

“Perfect! Now just pants,” she simulated pants for the girl to imitate her, “That's Mika, we are almost there, try not to push, just pants and…” Shelagh took the baby's small body and pulled gently, separating him forever from his mother, “That's it!”

The room was filled with the roar of a small baby protesting.

“You have a small but strong boy, Mika!”

The tears began to fall. Shelagh had no idea how much she missed doing this, and having another baby on her hands after helping him be born was going back in time.

“Can I see him?” The girl asked, trying to sit up.

“In a minute, I'll cut the cord first…” Shelagh said as she did so, “And that's it.”

She wrapped the baby in a white blanket and handed him to the mother. The girl said incomprehensible words while she supported him on her chest and caressed him. Then she looked at Shelagh.

“Thank you very much,” Mika smiled.

“You're welcome. I'll call the doctor to check him out, but I'm sure that little boy is fine.”

“Thank you,” repeated the girl, “I already have a girl, now a boy...My husband is not here but will be back soon,” Mika looked at her newborn baby, calmer, “And we will be very happy.”

“Yes,” Shelagh smiled at the baby, “I'm sure of that, too. You will be very happy.”

***

“You told me you didn't smoke.”

Shelagh looked up, scared that she would be caught in infraction. Patrick was walking towards her. She smiled at him.

“Yes, but after this, I needed one,” she leaned against the wall. The day was still cold and unstable, but she needed air. She pressed the finished cigarette against the bricks.

“Did everything go well?”

“Yes, a perfect delivery.”

“I know. I meant you. Did you feel good?”

“Yes, I'm fine. I missed doing this.”

He nodded, lit his own cigarette, and also leaned back against the wall, not looking at her, his eyes only straight ahead. She looked at him while he exhaled the smoke. She did not know when he returned with his vice, but she must have imagined it. Living alone, it was sure that he would fall back on that again.

“Today...I enrolled in university,” she whispered.

Shelagh saw him just nod, taking a drag on the cigarette.

“I congratulate you,” was all he said.

She let out a sad laugh.

“Thank you. Although I know you don't agree with this.”

Patrick shrugged, still not looking at her, staring at the ember of his cigarette.

“I'm no longer the one to tell you something, Shelagh. It is your life, I always wanted you to do what you wanted.”

She looked at him incredulously. Before, she would have believed him, now not anymore. 

But perhaps Patrick was speaking sincerely and this was his way of extending an olive branch towards her.

But evidently she had been wrong, because when Patrick spoke again, he did so by throwing his cigarette and stomping on it.

“The lawyer is preparing the papers. He said it will take a little longer than he thought, there are legal problems or something.”

His voice was cold, but with a coldness studied and practiced. She swallowed hard.

“And this is your way of thanking me for helping you today,” her voice came out also cold and hard, a perfect counterattack. 

“Shelagh you asked me for a divorce. I do everything you want, even that.”

“Well, thanks for being so considerate.”

She stretched the sleeves of her cardigan over her already icy hands. The excitement and adrenaline were gone and there was only her reality. She passed in front of him, leaving him behind, ready to take her bike and get away from there.

“Angela found her biological mother, did you know?”

She felt that she was punched, or that a train hit her. She turned slowly to look at him, and although his voice had sarcastic overtones, his gaze said otherwise. There was pain and sorrow there.

“Not She hardly speaks to me,” Shelagh replied in a whisper. She felt herself trembling, but not from the cold. She saw Patrick approach.

“She told me yesterday, when I went to pick her up from school. Apparently she was running away from her drawing classes to find out some clues, and found them right away.”

“But did she see the woman?” She moved closer to him, and he sighed, reaching into his pockets and looking down at the ground.

“Yes. Two days ago.”

“Oh, God,” Shelagh put her hands to her mouth. Tears welled up, she was still sensitive from the birth she had to attend to, and now, after the joy of giving a son to a mother, she found that her daughter was taken from her.

She felt one of Patrick's hands go up one of her elbows, drawing her to him.

“Don't cry, she won't leave us.”

“Oh, we can't say that with Angela.”

“The woman...well, Angela told me her name is Joanne. Joanne has her own family, two young children. Angela stayed in the Adoption Society, from there they called Joanne and the woman arrived in a few minutes. But she never looked for Angela in all this time.”

She tightened her eyelids, she didn't know whether to feel relief for that, or pain for Angela's pain at that moment.

“She told me they chatted a bit and that was all.”

“Patrick, we should have been with her,” Shelagh sobbed.

“I know, but Angela wanted things to be like this. I don't know if she does it out of rebellion or so as not to distress us. The issue is that yesterday she was sad and I just had to push a little and she told me everything. She's a little disappointed but they arranged to meet again. She has Joanne's phone, though she won't be calling soon. It seems that Joanne has not told her husband and children that she had a baby in her adolescence.”

She shook her head, the tears now flowing smoothly and she was doing nothing to stop them. She saw Patrick wiping a running one down his cheek, and then he wrapped her in his arms, and she clung to him. At that time they were not a separate couple, but two parents crying for their little daughter.

“She's fine, Shelagh.”

“No, she's not. She should have told me, I should have been there for her. That's why she looks for her mother, I'm not enough, I never was.”

Patrick pushed her away, his hands clenching her arms.

“Don't say that, you know it's not true. She will tell you in due course. Maybe she should have waited a little longer, but she decided it this way. She told me that Joanne seemed like a good woman, young, but nothing more.”

“And Angela is similar to her, for sure.”

“I don't know, Shelagh, but don't torture yourself thinking about it. Angela is ours, she always was, and she knows it. She's angry now for her age, her boyfriend, and for us. But she will already see everything with adult eyes. What I know now is that she loves you.”

She released his embrace, took off her glasses, and wiped her tears away with the hands.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“No, my bike is outside. Thank you.”

“Shelagh..”

“No, Patrick, please. I need to be alone.”

***

Shelagh pedaled aimlessly, thinking. She needed to see her daughter and at the same time, she knew that she should give Angela her space. 

The cold air dried her tears and made her shiver. She felt exhausted, the day seemed too long. She smiled inadvertently at the memory of Patrick's arms, his scent and his warmth. She missed that, but didn't miss his harsh words, his mind closed to her opening her wings.

She clenched her teeth and braked in front of her door.

Teddy was at home and watching television, while May put on her scarf, ready to go to her friend's party.

“Angela left,” her younger son announced and Shelagh dropped her coat to the ground, fearing the worst.

“She went to Dad's flat,” May clarified, “She came from her drawing classes and gathered her things and left.”

“Patrick is still in the Maternity Home,” she swallowed hard. Now she knew that perhaps Angela's drawing classes were not that, but the excuse to reunite with her real mother.

The children shrugged without giving her any more attention. May said goodbye with a kiss, assuring that she would arrive early.

Shelagh started preparing dinner, tonight it would be just her and Teddy. She looked at the kitchen, the living room, and the garden. The house was bigger every day, because every day fewer people lived there.

The phone rang, Teddy answered, and Shelagh deduced it was Patrick. She approached, and the boy passed the receiver to her.

“Angela wants to stay a few days here. She told me that she must study and she needs to be alone. I'm so sorry, Shelagh.”

“Why do you say that? You are her father, and she loves you.”

“I know but after what you knew today…I'll talk to her, I'll tell her that she must return to her mother and her siblings.”

“No, don't force her. I must accept that she is almost an adult, and that she wants to decide about her life.”

She heard him sigh. She could imagine him shaking his head, his gaze angry at what was happening.

"Shelagh, are you okay?"

She shook her head but lied.

“Yes.”

“Tell me the truth. Because I'm not. Things...I don't know.”

“Things shouldn't be like that, but they are.”

“Yes, I suppose I must accept it. I'll talk to her a lot anyway, don't worry, she'll be back.”

She nodded, though she wasn't sure of that.

“I must continue with the dinner, Patrick. Please make sure Angela eats well.”

“Don't worry, I'll do. Bye Shelagh. And I'm sorry. For all.”

***

She made sure that Teddy had his homework done and neat, and that he bathed and had everything ready for the next day. Then she sat down to draw. She was sleepy, but she wanted to wait for May, she did not want the girl to return to an empty and dark house.

She couldn't focus on drawing very well, she had to erase and start again every moment, because all the events of the day were attacking her head, making her feel dizzy and exhausted, not knowing what to think and what not to think about. 

She looked at the clock, it was after 11, very late for May, and for a Monday night. Nerves began to fill her again, thinking the worst. She was about to call Patrick, maybe the girl was at his flat, but she stopped, sighing. It was a gross excuse that she made herself to talk to him because the reality was that in the midst of the mixture of things she was feeling, the main one was that she missed him.

At last she heard that a car was arriving and that the front door of the house was opening.

“Mom!” The girl looked at her, surprised, “What are you doing here?”

“It is too late, May, you assured me that you would return early. Not only did you not call me to let me know about your lateness, but tomorrow you won't be able to get up early to go to school. Who brought you in that car?”

“It was Bianca and her father,” May undone the buttons off her coat with such force she almost tore them off. Shelagh approached her.

“You smell like cigarettes. Were you smoking?”

“Mom, it was a party, everyone smokes there. I don't do it,” she passed in front of her mother, Shelagh followed her, quite shocked by the attitude of her daughter.

“May, you should have warned me that you would be so late, I was worried about you. Open the mouth.”

“What?!”

“Open your mouth, I want to know if you drank alcohol.”

“Enough!” May's voice came out sharp. Shelagh leaned back, looking at her in puzzlement, So Angela can do whatever she wants, she can come and go, sleep with her boyfriend, yell at you all the time, fight with everyone, but I go out once and you make a fuss. I'm pretty tired of being the perfect daughter of this disastrous family.”

“May, I'm sorry, honey, I was just worried, I don't want anything bad to happen to you.”

“Mom, better take care of putting this family together again because this is horrible. You and dad are unbearable together but separated you are even more unbearable!”

“May, what does that have to do with you arriving two hours later and smelling of cigarettes and alcohol?”

“I don't care if it has something to do or not, I just wanted to tell you that. I don't understand this stupid thing you did, you love him, he loves you, so get together again and stop fighting all the time. I hate you two!”

The girl ran up the stairs, leaving Shelagh in the kitchen, not understanding anything that just happened. Perhaps May drank more alcohol than she should and was now screaming all she was feeling, or maybe she was tired of all the situation. She didn't blame her at all.

The next day, she had to wake up her daughter because she would be late for school. May stretched, then took her head.

“I'll bring you an aspirin. That happens when you drink alcohol.”

“I didn't drink alcohol, mom. Enough with that.”

May sat down and sighed, looking at her mother.

“Sorry for what I screamed at you last night.”

“Don't worry, May. But you won't go to the next party they invite you to. You must understand that you don't have to arrive at any time, at least you have to call me.”

May nodded, playing with the edge of the sheet.

“I'm sorry if your father and I made you suffer. Just give us a little time to fix things.”

“That's why I will never marry.”

Shelagh looked at her daughter and smiled.

“If that's what you want, go ahead. You can get married, or not, or study whatever you want…”

“Mom, if I go back to Hong Kong would you get mad? Just as a visit. When I have my money and I'm older.”

“Of course not, darling!” Shelagh sat on the bed, “You can go back to your place, it's your right. Now you need to get to another place that is closer and it is school.”

“Yes,” May smiled, taking off her pajamas. Shelagh walked to the door but May called her.

“Mom?”

“Yes, love?”

“I love you so much.”

***

_ A week later. _

_ I got here too early, _ she said to herself for the thousandth time, looking at the empty classroom, and she, sitting in the middle, watching the clock above the blackboard.

She did not calculate how long the bus ride would take, and she took one that left her outside the university more than half an hour before her class time. She could have walked through the parks on the site, or sat on a bench under the sun, but she was so intimidated by all those young people that she decided to go into the classroom and wait there. 

Although now that she thought better of it, outside she could be confused with any teacher, while here, sitting and alone at a desk, she was who she was, an older student.

She looked at her gray suit, made for not to attract attention, and she cringed a little more when a group of students entered and settled down, leaving their bags and chatting animatedly. They were all young professionals, recently graduated, recounting their experiences in different hospitals.

_ The hairstyle _ , she thought. Yes, the usual hairstyle made her look old, it was a mother's or grandmother's hairstyle compared to the loose hair or tied with colored scarves that these girls around her wore.

One of those girls sat next to her, opened her backpack and took out a notebook with the drawing of a big red heart and a photo of the girl and a boy who would be her boyfriend. They were a nice couple, young and in love. Shelagh sighed looking away.

A pen rolled across the floor, coming to rest next to her foot. She leaned down and took it, the girl next to her smiled at her.

“It's mine, thanks.”

“You're welcome,” Shelagh replied, handing it to her.

“Are you new here? I never saw you before in university.”

“Errr...yes, I'm new.”

The girl smiled, then turned to speak to another girl, sitting behind.

More students entered, and behind them, a professor. Shelagh immediately recognized him, and leaned in a bit, trying to hide behind her classmates ahead. The teacher in question was Dr Staton, Patrick knew him, in fact Staton had visited the Maternity Home several times. Hence, he also knew who she was.

“Students, welcome to this specialization,” Staton's thunderous voice made his entire audience shut up and open their notebooks, “Now I will turn off the lights to start the first class and see some slides.”

Shelagh sighed in relief, but Dr. Staton took a sheet of paper and spoke.

“Before I would like to know you a little. I will say the name of each one and you will introduce yourselves.”

She always knew him as an affable and friendly man, but now she wished that Dr. Staton was a guy who was not much concerned with his students and more concerned in giving his class and going home.

Staton named a few last names, and different boys and girls introduced themselves, saying where they worked, their experience, and what they expected from this specialization.

“And now...Mannion? I don't know anyone with that last name. Who's Mannion?”

Timidly, Shelagh raised her hand. She felt all eyes on her, in fact, she saw the girl sitting next to her looking at her with interest.

“Here. It's me. Shelagh Mannion.”

Staton frowned, then his face burst into laughter.

“You! But if you are Nurse Turner! Tell me, what are you doing here instead of your old husband? You don't need to learn anything, you already know everything!”

She evaluated whether standing up and running was a good option, but it was not. Then she thought what kind of madness possessed her to put herself in this humiliating and ridiculous situation. But Dr. Staton did not stop, because he had more compliments for her.

“Students, you have someone here more capable than me to teach you. Mrs Turner is a nurse like few others, and a midwife without equal. I saw her working and her hands do wonders. Don't see her as just another classmate, but as a brilliant example.”

Shelagh felt how everyone was looking at her, she felt the heat go up her body. Would they torture her like this every day?

“So here you are Mannion, huh? You must be one of the new feminists who don't use the husband's last name,” he laughed, and the others laughed a little, but continued to look at her no longer with interest in the unknown, but with admiration.

The class finally started, and she had to acknowledge Dr Staton because it was an excellent class. The man knew a lot, was aware of many things she did not know, and he knew how to capture everyone's attention.

“Well, you can take a break, see you next week! Now you will have class with Professor Mulligan, he is very demanding, so be very careful!”

“Do you want to come with me and have tea in the buffet?” Her classmate, the pen girl, smiled at her.

“I...uh…” Shelagh saw Dr. Staton was waiting for her outside, probably to chat and ask about Patrick, so if she went out with this girl, maybe she could avoid him. She smiled, “Sure, I would like it very much.”

Indeed, seeing her leave accompanied by the girl, Staton just greeted her and sent greetings to Patrick. Shelagh just thanked, and followed the girl through a maze of hallways, until they reached the buffet, which was very busy.

“What's your name?” asked the girl, sitting down at one of the tables. Shelagh sat across from her, leaving her bag on another chair, “I know you are Mannion, you are also Turner, but I don't know your name.”

“It's Shelagh.”

“Wow, what a beautiful name. I'm Karen. Oh, here come my friends!”

Suddenly Shelagh found herself surrounded by young people who greeted Karen and asked about other people she had no idea about.

“Guys, this is Shelagh. Isn't everything Dr. Staton said about her great?”

“Staton is one of the worst, and he would never speak of anyone like that, that's why we are shocked!” One of the young women, a dark-haired girl dressed in threadbare pants, smiled at her, “My name is Millie. And this is Jerry,” Millie pointed to a boy who was a little lanky, with straight blond hair that fell over his eyes.

“Hello Shelagh, it's great that you're here. Finally a little experience among so many... useless guys.”

“Hey Jerry, speak for you!” Karen and Millie complained. They all sat at the same table, and the waitress approached. They asked for tea.

“Tell me Shelagh, what are you doing here? Staton said you already know everything,” Millie was looking at her with wide open eyes, trying to analyze her or elucidate something. Shelagh felt inspected but at the same time, and strangely, she felt comfortable, because she did not notice bad intentions, only the insatiable curiosity of some young people.

“It's not true, in this single class I learned many things that I didn't know. I think he exaggerated a lot.”

“Are you married to a doctor?”

“Yes,” she looked down.

“Do you have children?” Karen asked.

“Yes. Four.”

“Four children?! And how do you study?”

“They are all big,” Shelagh smiled.

“Do you have someone who could be my boyfriend?” Millie asked, Jerry laughed, and Shelagh too, amazed at the girl's self-confidence.

“Millie!” Karen yelled, “How do you ask Mrs Turner that?”

“Oh no, call me Shelagh please. And to answer your question, Millie, I have an older son, but he already has a girlfriend and is in Manchester.”

“Wait a minute,” Karen said, “Is your son a doctor? Because I know a Turner who is in Manchester.”

“Oh Karen, there are thousands of Turners in Manchester and around the world,” Jerry laughed.

“Maybe we are talking about him, because yes, he's a doctor. His name is Timothy.”

“Yes, Timothy! My boyfriend was his classmate when they studied here. All the girls died for Tim.”

“Well, he never told me that!” Shelagh laughed, thinking that when she saw or spoke to Tim again, she would have something to upset him.

“So, he already has a girlfriend? How unlucky I am, and I'm sure he's very handsome, because you're beautiful,” Millie folded her arms across the table, resting her head in defeat.

The waitress came over and put down the tea cups.

“Oh, thank you very much for that Millie. You're also beautiful too.”

“Are you serious? I look horrible.”

“Oh don't say that, you're beautiful and perfect,” Shelagh smiled at her and Millie replied with a big smile, “Do you see it?" You have a wonderful smile!”

Millie smiled even more, sitting up straight and rushing to her tea.

“And you don't have daughters who can be my girlfriends?” Jerry asked.

“Jerry!” Karen looked even more indignant, “Shelagh don't pay attention to them, they are two immature.”

Shelagh took a sip of her tea, smiling at Jerry.

“I have two daughters, but they are very young for you. I won't let you get close to them.”

“Uhhh, did you hear that, Jerry?” Karen smiled triumphantly, “My friend will tear you to pieces if you mess with her family,” Karen put an arm around Shelagh.

She tensed at that gesture, not understanding it, but Karen released her and Shelagh saw that in that buffet, all the boys and girls hugged each other, smiled, made jokes and laughed. Suddenly it felt good to have someone call her "my friend." Since the times with Trixie, Jenny, Cynthia and Chummy that she did not feel that affection and companionship, something that she missed and needed in her last months.

She noticed that the three lads were looking at her and she smiled at them, leaving her memories aside.

“And you are already working?”

“Oh yes,” Millie replied, “In the London. Horrible place.”

“Is the hell.” Karen added.

“Especially for me,” said Jerry, “A male nurse is not something common yet, so if they can treat you badly, they do it.”

“Oh, don't complain,” Karen said, “Men dominate everything in the world.”

“Only if you're a doctor. If you're a nurse, you are many steps below. And my family also sees it that way. They wanted me studying medicine but I didn't want that for me. That's why I'm going to Africa, they need everything there and they don't look at what title you have. They value you for your work.”

“That's right,” Shelagh looked at him with some regret. Jerry was a young man, but he seemed quite tired from it all, despite his cheery laughter, “I was in Africa, and they need a lot, but most of all, they need understanding and compassion, and I'm sure you can give them that.”

“Did you really go there?” They all leaned in to listen to her.

“Yes. A long time ago I went to South Africa.”

“Tell us everything!” Karen exclaimed, and then Jerry, using his strongest male voice, shouted to the entire buffet:

“Guys! Come to listen to Shelagh!”

***

Of course they were late to Dr. Mulligan's class, which turned out to be already aware of who Shelagh Mannion was and addressed her as "Mrs Turner".

“Of these children, I can expect them to arrive at any time, but from you, Mrs Turner?” The man spoke with sympathy, clearly it was not his intention to scold her, but his confidence, when she did not even know him, frightened her.

“Excuse me doctor, the hour has passed and…”

“You don't need to apologize. How is Patrick?”

“F...fine…”

“I'm glad, give him my regards. Maybe one day he can come to give a class, he was always very studious at the university, and as a doctor I know that he has solved impossible cases. I was a study partner with him.”

“Yes of course. I'll tell him.”

She sat down, feeling uncomfortable and observed again. The class continued because it had been interrupted by her arrival. Dr. Mulligan said nothing that she no longer knew, not because of her studies but because of her experience, but she noted in her notebook and paid attention anyway, knowing that she was still being watched and analyzed by all her colleagues.

When the day was over, she packed her things and found that Karen, Jerry, and Millie were waiting for her at the door.

“What bus do you take?” Millie asked.

“I must go to Poplar.”

“Oh, then Jerry will accompany you. He lives there. Unless you have to do something else, Jerry.”

“I have nothing to do Millie, you know it,” Jerry laughed, smoothed his hair with one hand, “Perfect Shelagh, we'll be traveling companions then. Well, if it doesn't bother you.”

“Not at all,” She smiled at him, and the boy put his hands in his pockets, walking next to her after saying goodbye to Millie and Karen.

“You know, Shelagh? It's great to have someone here like you who knows so much.”

“You mean someone old.”

“No, I'm not saying that,” Jerry blushed completely, Shelagh laughed.

“I know what you mean. Thanks. I'll try to help you and your friends in whatever way I can.”

“Oh, you're very nice. Why are you studying now? Before you couldn't because of your family?”

“Yes. There were children to care for, a lot of work to do. And it's something I've wanted to do for a long time. You, young people, leave the university with a preparation that I didn't have because when I studied there were no scientific and technological advances that exist now. And in time, I fell behind everyone, and the young girls came to the maternity home knowing things that I had no idea existed.”

“It is...admirable that you wanted to continue studying. Other people stay with what they know and that's it.”

When they got to the bus stop, they did not have to wait long. Then when they took it and settled into the seats, Jerry fell asleep almost immediately. Shelagh smiled, he was a young boy but he was surely exhausted from study and work. Lately, in hospitals there was fierce competition that tired anyone who wanted to work and stay there. Things were not going very well economically, so keeping a job took a lot of effort.

Jerry woke up when they arrived to Poplar.

“Sorry, I fell asleep.”

“Don't worry, I think you're very tired. You must sleep better, otherwise you will get sick.”

The boy smiled slightly embarrassed.

“It looks like you're a great mother.”

“Oh, my children don't think the same.”

“It's because us, the children, are ungrateful. Oh, I must go down here. See you Shelagh!”

She greeted him and settled herself better in the seat, waiting to get to her stop. She sighed happily, her first day had been quite good.

When she entered the house, the smell of freshly baked food invaded her. She went into the kitchen and there were May and Teddy, smiling at her with the served table.

“Hi Mom!”

“What's this?”

“We made a welcome for you. For your first day,” Teddy explained.

“I did everything, you just set the table,” May looked at him, Teddy just rolled his eyes.

“But it was my idea!”

“Children don't fight. No matter who did each thing, this is so pretty! Thank you very much!”

“How was it?” May asked, making her mother sit at the table, “Are they kind in the university? Because I'm a little scared to go there next year.”

“It was great. I had two teachers, they have a bad reputation among the students but they were kind to me because they know me. But the classmates are very kind.”

“And you already have friends?” Teddy was watching her intently.

“Well, they're not my friends, but I've already met Karen, Millie, and Jerry. By the way, Jerry wants Angela or May as a girlfriend, what do you think we could tell him, Teddy?”

May screamed in fear, Teddy laughed but then became serious.

“He should talk to me before. They are my sisters and now I'm the man of the house.”

“Oh, so I feel very safe with you, my little man,” Shelagh kissed his forehead but the boy walked away.

“Mom, I'm a teenager!”

“Okay, okay. Oh, this looks delicious!” She said when she saw the food that May brought, “Thank you very much, my loves. I'm very happy.”

They ate quietly, the two children asked everything about university, and she responded to their enthusiasm. Then they said goodbye to her, May had to attend her sports class and Teddy to his maths class.

Shelagh stayed, cleaning and then reading what she should read for her next class.

In the silence she thought about everything that happened that morning. At first it was all awkward, and she supposed it would continue to be if they continued to compliment her and Patrick, but she must have hoped that things would normalize soon. She wanted to enjoy this opportunity.

It was almost tea time when she heard knocks on the door, quick and desperate knocks. She became alert, a little scared, and her concern shot up when she recognized Angela's voice calling her.

She ran to the door and when she opened it, she saw Angela crying in dismay.

“Mom, forgive me!”

Shelagh hugged her and Angela clung to her so tightly that they both fell to their knees on the ground.

“Angela, for God's sake, tell me what happens!”

“He hit me!”

“Who hit you?”

“Robert! Robert hit me and said I'm a whore!”

“What?!” She took the face of her daughter to look at her, “Why did he do that? Angela!” 

“It's my fault!”

“Don't you dare say that. Tell me what happened. Come,” Shelagh stood up, Angela was still clinging to her as when she was a child and had nightmares. Her crying was now reduced to little sobs.

Shelagh closed the door and stood with her daughter in the hall.

“Angela…”

“He told me that we couldn't continue together, because I'm a brat and a fool. I asked him why he was saying all this to me and he replied that I'll study art, which is something for rich and stupid kids. I didn't understand why he attacked me like that, I did nothing to him. Until he told me that I didn't want to sleep with him, that I was a fool and that I would surely sleep with rich kids like me. And that's what the whores do, because I'm a whore! I...I didn't do anything, mom, I just went to see him, I wanted to talk to him, and he hit me! And he said he has other girls! I don't understand anything!”

Angela's words were mistaken for her renewed crying, and Shelagh just hugged her and stroked her hair. Angela was taller than her but she was still a scared and hurt child, who only wanted her mother.

“I'm sorry, Mom,” Shelagh heard her whisper, and parted to look her in the eye.

“Why do you ask me for forgiveness, honey?”

“You were right, and I told you horrible things. Also I looked for my real mother and I didn't tell you anything. Dad told you that?”

“Yes. Angela, don't apologize for all that.”

“But I left you here and went with Dad and also looked for someone else! And I ignored you and Robert hit me.”

“You have the right to be with your father and look for your mother. About Robert...well, I want to kill him. But none of this is your fault. Come, wash your face, we'll have tea, we'll chat. Let me see if you're hurt.”

She sat Angela in a chair, and Angela allowed herself to be checked by her mother. Shelagh saw her hurt multiple times, by silly falls or accidents in the house, but seeing her with a small scratch near her mouth, made by a man who clearly despised her...It made her blood boil. Suddenly she felt anger towards that boy, his family, and Patrick, for allowing that bastard to enter in his daughter's life.

“Mom, can I come back here?” Angela asked, her eyes tightening as she felt the disinfectant her mother was applying.

“Dear, you shouldn't ask, of course you can. Don't you want to be with your father?”

“I miss you and May and Teddy. I promise I'll be a good girl.”

Shelagh smiled at her, kissed her cheek, and Angela hugged her.

“Will Dad be angry?”

“Angela, how can he be angry because you come back here?”

“I mean Robert.”

“Well,” Shelagh sighed, “I can't assure that. But I will tell your father everything, don't ask me to lie to him.”

Angela sighed, nodding.

“Can you accompany me to his flat to look for my things? There are all my books and my clothes. I have the key here, he's surely working.”

“Let's go,” Shelagh placed a plaster on the wound, then took a brush and combed her daughter's matted hair. Angela still had red eyes, her hands trembled and her gaze was scared. But she was here. Angela returned, kept calling her "mom" and ran to her when she needed help. It was selfish, but Shelagh felt a little joy and relief.

***

They walked together to Patrick's flat, after having tea. Angela was clinging to her mother's arm, guiding her through the streets, because Shelagh had never even asked where her husband's new home was.

They entered a little old building, went up some stairs, and Angela took the key out of her coat pocket. When she opened the door, she took a step back, seeing that the light was on.

“Angela?” Patrick came to meet her, smiling, but stopped when he saw Shelagh. Instead of smiling, he frowned, “What happened?”

Angela walked past her father, entering the apartment, and Shelagh just stood at the door. Patrick continued to look at her strangely and she felt analyzed by him, suspecting that her presence was not welcome here. Before he could say anything, she greeted him.

“Hello Patrick. There was a problem with Angela, you need to know.”

***

Patrick's flat was as messy as she imagined. 

It was small, dark, and a little sad. There were dirty dishes in the kitchen, clothes drying on the chairs near the stove. 

She let Angela speak to Patrick. The girl showed great maturity when she asked to speak alone with her father, and Shelagh quietly left and took the opportunity to put some order, while father and daughter talked. She could hear Angela crying, softly this time, and Patrick mumbling something, his voice tight with hate.

The tears began to flow, now that the shock was fading and she could understand what happened. She forcefully washed a plate, as if she could blame it for everything.

“Leave those dishes, Shelagh, you don't need to do this.”

She sniffled, turning to see Patrick behind her.

“Sorry for invading your space,” she murmured, walking away from the counter and looking for something to dry her hands.

“I don't say it for that reason, I say it because it's not your obligation to do it. I was going to wash them tonight.”

She nodded and he handed her a towel.

“How is Angela?” she asked, her eyes fixed on her hands as she dried them.

“She fell asleep on the sofa, she's exhausted. I think it would be better if she spent the night here, tomorrow I'll take her home with all her things.”

She nodded again, leaving the towel hanging on a chair.

“Then, I'll go.”

“Shelagh.”

She stopped, turned, and looked at him.

“Sorry. You were right, that guy is a fucking son of a bitch.”

“Patrick,” she looked at him disapprovingly.

“I can't call him any other way. I didn't see it, I swear I didn't see that, I just saw that Angela was happy with him, that we shouldn't stop her, I didn't want her to suffer for love like you and I did. And it seemed to me that he could guide her because she no longer obeys us. But...I ruined everything.”

“Yes, Patrick. You ruined it,” Shelagh whispered, looking to the living room, where Angela slept covered with her father's coat.

She heard him breathe shakily and looked at him. Patrick was crying, barely a tear running down his wrinkles that she loved, but his eyes were full of pain.

They had fought so many times over this matter, and now she knew Patrick was not to blame. The fault was with that guy who cheated and hit Angela. Not her father, who trusted, as he trusted that all humans were good or could be. She moved a little closer, touched his face and he closed his eyes, as he always did when she touched him.

“I'm so sorry Patrick,” she whispered, “I'm sorry for all the times we argue about this. None is to blame, only that bastard.”

“I'll kill him,” he opened his eyes, there burned hatred.

“No, don't do anything. Now we must focus our energies on Angela, so that she can heal from all this, and that in a few years she can trust again and not be scared by what happened.”

He nodded, and Shelagh separated from him even though she did not want to. She wanted to hug him, kiss him, comfort herself in his warmth, shake off the loneliness she felt without him. But she took two steps away, fearing that it would confuse things more, or that Patrick would move away from her arms and her love. 

He wiped his cheeks, did not advance toward her.

“Yes, you're right. I'll take you home.”

“No, it is not necessary.”

“It's already late, I won't let you walk alone. I'll leave Angela a note in case she wakes up.”

He approached the kitchen table, there he looked for a pen in the mess of papers and books, and scribbled something. Then they both approached Angela, there were still tear lines on her face. Patrick left the note on the table in front of the sofa.

Shelagh came over, kissed her daughter on the forehead, and covered her more with the coat.

“I love you, my angel.”

Angela only groaned barely, but did not wake up.

The way was short, and when they got to the house, Shelagh got out of the car quickly.

“Wait!” Patrick yelled, and she leaned into the car, the door still open.

“Yes?”

She saw him swallow hard, look straight ahead, then at her.

“Just...take care. Tell May and Teddy that I'm coming for them tomorrow.”

“I'll tell them. Take care of yourself too.”

She closed the door and walked towards the house, but did not enter. She waited for Patrick to leave, and watched him drive away in his car. The pain in his eyes was still etched in her mind, and she knew she would spend that night praying for her daughter, and for him.


	6. Chapter 6

_Two months later_

Shelagh felt her mouth drop open, unable to contain the surprise.

She had just passed her first exam, a long and complicated exam, getting the highest possible mark. She had struggled so much to find the time to study, she had not sat between books, or made summaries, or visited the library in years. She thought that things would not turn out well, that all her effort was in vain and that indeed, she was too old to be within these walls. But she was completely wrong.

“Wow Shelagh!” by her side, Karen was staring at her, her eyes wide open, “You're really good.”

She felt heat on her cheeks, and smiled slightly.

“Oh no, it's just that…”

“Don't take away your credit. This is incredible,” Karen took the exam, showed it to Millie, sitting behind and the girl said a curse that several heard but that made Shelagh laugh.

“Shelagh nobody has a perfect exam in this university. Only the perfect people,” Millie ruled. Karen agreed with her.

She was going to reply that she was not perfect or anything like that, but Patrick's voice rang in her head, telling her that she should not be ashamed of being smart. He had told her many times at the beginning of their relationship, when everything was new and she was still bound by old rules. He encouraged her, told her all kinds of flattery, and she always had a phrase to refute him, until he, perhaps tired of it, told her that she should not be ashamed, that she should feel good knowing that she was intelligent.

It had been years without him saying something like that to her, genuinely, with pride and love.

In fact, in those two months, Patrick had not even asked about the university and her classes. Moreover, they had seen little, now with Angela living permanently in the house. Patrick just stopped by to pick her up or to bring May from her classes, or to take Teddy somewhere. The talks had been limited to a "hello" and "bye" from the door.

“Earth calling Shelagh,” Millie whispered in her ear, and Shelagh jumped. She looked back.

“When will we meet for the practice work?”

“Oh,” Shelagh sighed.

This was new. In her student days, there were no such things as "works in groups." Now it seemed that this was common, in fact her three youngest children from time to time had works of this type. What she did not know was that there were also works like this at the university, and that meant meeting at other times, in other places.

“In my house it's impossible,” Millie clarified, “My parents are there and they fight all day. Karen?”

“Same here,” the girl complained, “Shelagh are your children unbearable? Because my brothers are, and I don't know if all the children are like that or just them.”

“My children behave very well,” she declared proudly, then smiled, “Well, most of the time.”

The girls laughed. Karen glanced at Jerry, who was still staring in disgust at his failed exam.

“Don't look at me,” he said, without raising his eyes from the paper, “I not only failed but I must get the best mark in the practice work or I'll directly lose this subject. Why was I born so stupid?”

“Jerry don't say that,” Shelagh looked at him, shaking her head, “The exam was too complicated, this has nothing to do with your skills.”

The boy just sighed.

“Well, you can't go to my house. I live with my friend Mike, the flat is two inches wide. Only him and me can fit there. And it's a total mess.”

“That you don't have to say,” Millie said.

Glances then turned to Shelagh. She swallowed hard, not quite sure what to say. What would her children think if she suddenly appeared at the house with a bunch of guys?

“I…,”she took a breath, “It's okay. Thursday afternoon? My children aren't there during that time, we can work quietly.”

“Great, then we'll be there,” Karen smiled, and tore a page out of her notebook for Shelagh to write down the address.

***

“Will your husband mind if we all go to his house?”

Shelagh looked at Jerry. The bus was moving too slow due to the traffic, and in her head she was thinking only that she would be too late for lunch, and that her children would surely not see the meatloaf she had kept in the refrigerator, and that they would surely only eat chips and eggs, taking advantage of the lack of maternal supervision.

She sighed, shaking her head, trying to shake off the worry.

“What? Sorry, I wasn't listening.”

“I know,” Jerry smiled, “I asked you if your husband will mind if we go to his house on Thursday.”

“Why would that bother him?” she asked, quite taken aback by the question.

Jerry shrugged.

“I don't know, it's his house and we are some guys there bothering him.”

“The house doesn't belong to my husband,” Shelagh bit her tongue, trying to avoid talking too much, “The house is ours. And it's also a very large house and he can...be elsewhere. We won't be a bunch of rowdy kids, like my children's friends. So he doesn't have to be mad about it.”

Jerry nodded, and Shelagh looked out the window again, hoping the traffic would move a little faster and allow her to get home soon. 

Her answer was harsh, she had felt an inexplicable anger at Jerry's innocent question. The very thought of Patrick getting mad at Shelagh's friends made her clench her teeth. He had no right to that. He no longer lived there, he did not care about anything about her life.

“I...I'm sorry,” she said looking at Jerry, “I'm a little tired, much more because of this traffic.”

“It doesn't matter, Shelagh. I understand you, it is also quite hot today.”

“Yes.”

They did not say anything else, she concentrated on seeing how the bus was moving a little faster now. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jerry looking at her. She felt a little uncomfortable, not knowing what conversation to have with him, and also feeling that, perhaps, the boy was intuiting that things at home were not as wonderful as she painted them. No one knew that she was about to get divorced and that her children had good days and bad days in equal measure.

She sighed again, and took off her glasses, running the fingers over her tired eyes.

“If you want, you can sleep,” said Jerry, “I'll wake you up when I get off the bus so you won't miss your stop.”

“No, thanks Jerry. You're very nice, but I can't sleep on buses.”

The boy just nodded. She looked at him well, he was flushed to the ears.

“Hey, don't feel bad about your exam,” Jerry looked up at her, shook his head, exhausted, “Really, Jerry. Those marks don't define who you are, or your worth as a person.”

“It's just...everything is so difficult. But I'll follow your advice. If I get frustrated with myself it will be worse. Shelagh, it's really impressive that you passed that exam with a perfect mark. I studied whole nights and didn't even get close to the mark needed to pass.”

Shelagh gave him an understanding smile. She noticed that the boy was making a great effort, and that he was also intelligent, but he seemed very angry with himself.

“Jerry, don't look at the others. Focus on you. I know that you will not lose this subject, we will help you so that that doesn't happen.”

She had put a hand on the boy's shoulder, and noticed that he was just looking at the ground, again completely flushed.

“Do you feel fine?”

“Yes, thanks Shelagh. I must get off now, bye.”

Shelagh looked everywhere, they were still away from Poplar, and when she went to yell at him that he was wrong, Jerry had already disappeared.

She got off the bus when it was too late. She entered the house, wanting to lie down and recover her energy. In the evening, she would have to work on the drawings she would send that week.

When she entered the kitchen, May was washing the dishes, Angela was drawing on her board, and Teddy was watching television.

“Hello,” she smiled when she saw them, smelling the unmistakable smell of fried food that she knew she would find.

“Hi Mom!” the three looked at her innocently. Shelagh opened the refrigerator, there was the meatloaf she had prepared.

“Why didn't you eat this?”

“What thing?” May came closer, “Oh guys, here was food.”

“And then what did you eat?”

“Vegetables,” Teddy smiled, a perfect image of a blonde angel.

“To my luck, you don't know how to lie,” Shelagh closed the refrigerator door and hung her bag on a chair.

Her children looked at her in shame but said nothing. Shelagh smiled, and went to wash her hands.

When she came out of the bathroom, she looked at them: they were calm, they were happy children doing their things. Since Angela had returned home, everything seemed to be going well, as if they had grown used to the new family they were now. Teddy kept getting good marks, May went to parties and came back at the agreed time, and Angela improved in her studies and in drawing. She thought of Tim, at this hour it was certain that he would be working tirelessly. She wanted to visit him, to make his life a little easier even if it was preparing healthy food for him, but it was not possible. She always missed him so much, in her eyes he was still a little boy that she had to take care of.

“Is something wrong, mom?” Teddy was looking at her with a frown.

“No, I was just thinking that I love you all very much. Even when you eat things you shouldn't.”

Teddy rolled his eyes, but allowed himself to be hugged by his mother. Together they walked to the table.

“It was just a few chips.”

“And a dozen fried eggs,” Angela laughed.

“Children! Think of cholesterol!”

“Mom, how was your exam?” May asked, drying off the last plate, trying to avoid further scolding.

“Oh, it was very good,” Shelagh opened her bag, took out the sheet of paper, and placed it on the table. The three children lunged, Teddy whistling when he saw the mark.

“Mom, this is great!” exclaimed May.

“You're quite a university student, and one of the best!” Angela smiled.

“You can teach there,” said Teddy, “Can you imagine? _Professor Shelagh Mannion._ Sounds really good.”

Shelagh smiled at him, and looked at her daughters. There was some discomfort on their faces. She knew right away that it was due to the name change Teddy had made, as if he had already fully assumed that his mother was no longer a Turner.

But Teddy was oblivious to all that.

“When are we going to meet your friends?”

“Well, on Thursday they will come, we have to work in groups and no one has a place for us to meet, except me.

The eyes of all three, especially Angela and May's, lit up.

“But they will come on Thursday afternoon, and you aren't here that day, and don't think that I'll let you miss your classes.”

“But Mom!” they complained.

“No, they also come here to work and study, and you just want to talk and bother them.”

“But Mom, they are university students, they are cool people!”

“I'm also a university student, May.”

“Agg is not the same.”

“Because am I an old woman?” She looked at her daughter, raising an eyebrow. May paled.

“I'll heat up your lunch, Mom.”

Laughing, she sat at the table, listening to the protests of her children and watching them chat and do their things.

When she finished, she decided to lie down for a while. She knew she would not be able to sleep, but at least she would rest her eyes and her body. She was no longer a _cool_ student, she had almost five decades on her shoulders and that was a huge weight.

As soon as she went to bed, she heard a slight knock on the door.

“Yes?”

Angela came in shyly.

“Mom, do you have something for the headache?”

Ignoring the protests of her aching body, Shelagh jumped to her feet, and walked over to her daughter. She put a hand on Angela's forehead.

“You don't have a fever. Does it hurt a lot?”

“A little bit, but it's annoying. I think I spent many hours drawing.”

Shelagh found an aspirin on the now empty nightstand that belonged to Patrick. 

She gave it to her daughter, along with a glass of water. Angela sat on the bed, swallowed the pill and the water.

She looked at her, knowing that Angela needed to say something much more important than a headache.

“Can I sleep here with you?”

She almost melts at the request and at Angela's look, the same one she had when at three years old she refused to sleep anywhere other than her parents' bed.

She sat next to her and stroked her back.

“Of course, Angela, it will do you good to rest.”

Angela smiled and got into bed, Shelagh lay down beside her, covering her with the blankets.

“Mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

Angela sighed, turned to look up at the ceiling. 

Shelagh trembled, thinking of the thousand things her daughter might be about to tell her. What she feared most was Robert's reappearance in her life.

“Angela, is this about Robert?”

“What?! No, that idiot didn't come back. I don't want to see him either. I feel hate, and you taught me that it's not okay to hate, but I can't feel otherwise.”

“If that makes you walk away from him and don't feel love, that's fine. Maybe it will help you heal your little heart,” she put a hand on her daughter's chest, Angela smiled.

“I hope he dies.”

“Angela…” Shelagh looked at her, shaking her head. Her girl could be terrible if she wanted to.

“Fine, not to die, but I hope he suffers. Anyway, it is not about him what I want to tell you.”

_Here we go, it's another boy,_ she thought. She closed her eyes, prepared to feel the blow.

“I was thinking of calling Joanne. You know who Joanne is, right?”

Shelagh opened her eyes. This was worse than she imagined. Angela had never said a word about her meeting with her real mother.

“I'd like to talk to her a little more. We talk very little, and I have some questions. I would like to know who is my…” Angela swallowed hard, “...the man with whom she conceived me.”

Shelagh sat up, draped the covers over her lap. Angela turned to look at her, still lying down.

“I can't call him my father,” Angela continued, “Maybe he was only with her for one night, or he was her boyfriend but when he found out about me he disappeared. That is not a father, a father doesn't do that. Never a person I never saw, will be like Dad.”

Shelagh smiled at her, reached out to stroke her daughter's blonde hair.

“I know honey. Your father is a great father. And you were always his little princess.”

Angela smiled, then sat down as well.

“But still, I want to know who that person is. Although I can't call Joanne mother either. Do you know that she never looked for me? She never wanted to know about me. She was surprised when she came to the adoption society, she looked at me like I was an alien, like she didn't know what was going on. She made her life, she has her family.”

“Angela, don't judge her. You know, maybe she carried on with her life because it was the only way to cope with the pain of leaving you. We don't know what happened, or why she did it.”

The girl sighed, then leaned against Shelagh's shoulder, and hugged her tightly. Shelagh wrapped her arms around her, kissed her forehead.

“She told me that I'm very similar to her,” she continued, “And it's true, I saw her similar to me, as if she were myself, but with more years. But...she's a stranger. I don't want to be like an unknown woman, I want to be like you.”

“Oh, Angela,” Shelagh kissed her forehead once more, “I'm not the best example in the world, and I'm sorry. But you are similar to me, and to your father, as if you carry our blood. You have the stubbornness of both, the passion to do what you like, and when you are angry you wrinkle your forehead like him.”

Angela laughed a little.

“Dad told me that when he says a ridiculous thing, I look at him the same way you do.”

“Do you see it? You are a small copy of us,” she hugged her tighter, Angela yawned.

“Mom, I'll just see her to ask her a few questions. That's it. Don't be afraid, I won't go with her. Joanne has her children and her husband, I don't want to disturb her. I just...need to know things, to complete the puzzle. Does that make sense?”

“Of course. Do you want me to accompany you when you go to see her?”

“Oh no, mom, no. It would be painful for you.”

“Don't think about me. Think of yourself, what you want. You need company? I'll be there.”

“Thanks I'll think about it” Angela yawned, and lay down again. Shelagh covered her and kissed her hair.

“Mom, can we visit Sister Julienne? I miss her. And I want to tell her about this.”

“Sure love, we can go whenever you want.”

Angela closed her eyes. Shelagh looked at the desk, there was the last letter Julienne had sent her. As always, she asked _how everything was._ And in that _everything_ , Shelagh knew Julienne was referring to something specific. It was her veiled way of asking _How is your marriage? What's going on with Patrick? Have you made a decision?_

Julienne asked as only a mother asked. And Shelagh, as a daughter, did not know what to answer.

Angela fell asleep instantly, a funny little snore coming from her mouth. Everything was fine, because Shelagh had her daughter here, her other two healthy children downstairs, and her oldest son working and carving out his extraordinary future.

She should be grateful. She had the family she dreamed of, the one she imagined in her days as a nun.

But she did not have the most important piece.

How silly she felt to miss him like that. How fragile, vulnerable, lonely.

Sometimes she felt so angry towards his attitudes, and sometimes she felt her feet beg to run to him.

Whatever good she had, it was not good enough if Patrick was not there. There was no use pretending to be an independent woman, when in reality she felt this way. It hurt all over her body how much she missed his voice, his laugh, his steps. It hurt to continue loving him after so long.

“I'll ask him to come back,” she whispered in the semi-dark room, “I'll beg him, I'll forgive him everything. I need him here. I'll plan it well and tell him everything. And he will return, I'm sure.”

She fell asleep, calmer with her decision. But also knowing that always, it was she who gave in.

And that was not right.

***

The doorbell rang, a short sound accompanied by laughter. Shelagh looked at the time and took the cake out of the oven. Untying her apron, she opened the door.

“Hi!” Karen, Millie and Jerry greeted her.

“Hi kids, come in.”

“Are we very early?” Karen asked.

"Oh my God what a delicious smell!" Millie exclaimed.

“No, you arrived at the right time, and that smell is a cake that I made, I just took it out of the oven. Come on.”

She led them to the kitchen, where she had already arranged the cups of tea. The three of them left their jackets and bags hanging from the chairs, and began to remove the books and put them on the table.

“Shelagh you have a beautiful house,” Karen looked around,”It looks like a decoration magazine!”

“Thank you,” she smiled, cutting slices of cake. Millie came over to help her.

“Millie come see what beautiful flowers are in the garden,” Karen called her and the girl left.

Shelagh looked at Jerry, sitting with his elbows on the table and his hands supporting his head. He had barely said hello, he looked tired.

"Are you feeling okay, Jerry?"

“Yes, I just couldn't sleep well last night. Hey girls, stop looking at everything, you look like little children.”

The girls laughed and came closer. They sat down and Shelagh served them tea.

“This is so good!” Millie spoke with her mouth full of cake, much to Karen's disapproval.

“Where do we start?” Shelagh opened her notebook and her books, the others did the same.

“Well, we better start at the beginning,” Cleaning herself with a napkin, Millie began to read aloud.

They quickly got to work, dividing all the tasks to finish soon, because both Karen and Millie had to go to the hospital to work at night.

Shelagh sat in front of the typewriter, looking at them from time to time. They were all used to reading quickly, turning the pages and making notes all over the place, crossing out and rewriting. The girls asked how to answer certain questions, debated, exchanged opinions with her. The only one who was just nodding, not saying anything, was Jerry. He seemed off, away from the cheerful boy who went to the classes at university.

_He must be very stressed about all this_ , she thought, feeling sorry for him.

"Do you want more tea, Jerry?" she offered. The boy looked at her with bright eyes.

“Yes, Shelagh, that would help me a lot. Sorry, I can't connect my neurons today.”

“Don't worry, Jerry,” said Karen, “Everything will be fine.”

Soon they were done with the practice work, the tea, and the cake. Only crumbs and empty cups remained.

“I think it's perfect,” Shelagh looked at the pages, counted them, “And that's exactly the number of pages they asked us.”

They all sighed in relief.

“Millie, we'll be late,” announced Karen, “Shelagh sorry but we must go now.”

“Wait!” Jerry shouted, looking at the pages, “We still need to clarify two concepts of the last question. Oh no, no... This is wrong!”

“I'm running late…” Millie looked at her watch.

“Calm down!” Shelagh said, her efficiency popping out everywhere, “Girls, go to the hospital. Jerry and I will finish this.”

“But it's not fair, you will have to finish everything, while we leave,” Karen said.

“You are not going to a party, you are going to work. So it's not unfair. With Jerry we finish that in a few minutes and everything will be ready, and we will pass this exam.”

The girls smiled gratefully, gave her an unexpected and quick hug, and almost ran away.

"I'll make more tea," Shelagh said, returning to the kitchen.

“Thanks Shelagh,” Jerry replied, without taking his eyes off the book he was reading, “This is so complex, I need fuel.”

Shelagh smiled, looked at the boy. He was bent over the table, writing like a maniac, turning the pages quickly. At one point he reminded her of Patrick when he was studying for the solution to a case, with his face with dark circles, his back hunched, his nimble hands opening and closing books in search of answers and his anxious eyes, taking every note of each detail that they saw.

She set the cup of tea for Jerry next to his book, sat next to him, and began to read. She saw that the boy did not even look at the cup, nor did he touch it.

“Jerry, we just need to focus, the answers are here. If we despair, we will not be able to see them…” she explained, turning the pages calmly, hoping that the boy would also calm down.

Jerry did not respond, just nodded, and she heard him breathe shakily. She stopped looking at him, perhaps that made him even more nervous. The best was to work and read.

After a few minutes she paid attention, when she did not hear the ripping of the pencil on the paper, nor the passing of the pages. In fact, it seemed like Jerry was not even breathing.

She barely looked at him, he had stopped writing and his pencil was on the book, it seemed that it had been there a long time. Jerry was not reading anymore, his eyes were not on the letters and diagrams on the pages, they were on her. She turned to look at him.

“Jerry, is something wrong? Do you feel okay?”

“Shelagh I like you a lot.”

She blinked. Surely she misheard.

“What?!”

Jerry let out a resigned breath, ran a hand through his straight, tousled hair, and looked down at the table.

“Sorry, I shouldn't have said that,” with a bang, he closed his book, put the pencil in the pocket of his jacket, “God, I'm so stupid.”

“Jerry…”

“Don't worry, I'll finish everything at my house, then I'll call you and give you the answers,” he said hastily, as he put on his jacket and grabbed his books. One fell to the ground, and he whispered a curse.

“Jerry, stop,” Shelagh stood up, trying to understand what was happening. She still could not believe what she had heard.

The boy sighed again, looked at her. He seemed completely lost and frustrated

“Sorry, Shelagh. I...I don't know why I said that. I got confused with you, that's all.”

She blinked again, finally convincing herself of what was happening. She swallowed hard, moving closer to him. Jerry pulled away.

“I'm so sorry Jerry.”

“No, please don't worry, I was the fool. I know you are married, you are older than me but...You're perfect. I never met anyone like you.”

Shelagh pursed her lips, not knowing what to say. She never expected something like this. At her age, making a boy like Jerry have feelings for her?

The door opened and slammed, and Teddy walked into the kitchen. He stopped, looking at both of them.

“Hello,” he greeted, “Is something wrong?”

“No, Teddy,” she forced a smile, “Look, this is one of my friends, this is Jerry.”

Jerry smiled slightly, Teddy held out his hand towards him, looking at him suspiciously.

“Hi, Jerry.”

“Hi, Teddy. Your mother talks a lot about you,” he said shaking the outstretched hand, then turned to Shelagh, “Bye Shelagh, I'll call you to pass you the answers.”

She accompanied him to the door, Jerry left quickly, fleeing. 

Shelagh looked inside, hearing Teddy come up the stairs, and called Jerry. He stopped short, turning to look at her.

“Jerry, I'm sorry,” she whispered.

“I already told you that you shouldn't ask me for forgiveness. I shouldn't have told you anything, I just...spoke without thinking. Please, I don't want this to affect you or the girls. We will continue to be classmates.”

“Of course, nothing will happen. Jerry, come here.”

He took only two steps, and did not come any closer. She left the door, went to him.

“Look, you're a good boy, you can have any girl you want.”

Jerry looked down, kicked something imaginary on the ground.

“Yes I know. The problem is that nobody is like you.”

She had never felt so lost. She had nothing to say, or to solve this new problem in which she was unintentionally involved. She had never thought something like this could happen, and she felt sorry for Jerry, for not helping him in any way that was not the way he expected. He seemed like a lovely boy to her, but she saw him as a son, and he had surely mistaken her maternal affection for something else.

“Jerry…”

“Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything else. See you, Shelagh, sorry for everything.”

She watched him go, clutching the books to his chest, walking quickly.

Shelagh walked back into the house, head dizzy and heart heavy. She slowly closed the door, trying to process what happened in a few seconds.

“Mom, what's wrong with that idiot?”

She was startled to see Teddy behind her, still in his dirty school clothes.

“That idiot's name is Jerry, Edward,” she closed the door completely, and turned to see her son. In the gloom of the hall, his face was perfectly the same as Patrick's when he did not like something, especially things about her.

“I don't care what his name is, especially with what he told you.”

She had no idea that Teddy could have been listening to Jerry, but here he was, looking and judging her. Things seemed to get worse with each passing second.

“Dear…”

“Did you leave Dad for Jerry?”

Her breath hitched.

“Edward, what are you saying?” she walked toward him, but Teddy walked away, looking her up and down.

“He told you things that a guy in love would say to a woman. I'm not a fool, nor I'm a child, I know very well about these things.”

“Oh, yes?”

“You told him that he can have any girl and he replied that none is like you. And he said sorry, and when I arrived you were weird. Those things Dad used to say to you. And they also say them in soap operas and movies. Did you separate from Dad to be with Jerry?”

“With your father we separated long before I started university, you know that very well.”

She sat down in the chair she had previously occupied, and removed the books and papers, desperately searching for a way to talk to her son without making things worse.

“Sit down, Edward.”

Reluctantly, Teddy sat across from her. His brow was still furrowed, his gaze judged her, and, _by God, he hates me._

“Will you marry him? Will you do that?”

“What? Teddy, I know what you heard, but it's not what you think. I'm not marrying Jerry or anyone. Jerry is my classmate in university. We study together, that's all. I see him as a son, he's almost Timothy's age.”

“But he told you…”

“Yes, he said that. And he also told me that he likes me. But you should know that these things happen in life. There are people who may be in love with you, and you are not. Or, God forbid that never happens to you, but you can fall in love with someone and that person does not reciprocate.”

“I know, it happens in the movies.”

“I think you're watching too many movies.”

“May and Angela watch those cheesy things. So...that Jerry is in love with you, but you are not with him? Are you sure?”

“Sure, Teddy. I appreciate him, because he's a boy who works and studies a lot, and wants to be a professional and help many people. But I don't love him, I'm not in love, I won't marry him. What happened today was something...unfortunate. Please don't tell anyone.”

“I agree. So do you love Dad?”

Teddy's hopeful eyes made her shiver, especially since his gaze might be blue like hers, but it was just like Patrick's. His expression, his eyes full of liveliness and expectation, everything was just like Patrick, and it was as if he himself was asking her if she loved him.

“Yes Teddy, I love your dad,” she said at last.

”Then will you marry him again? And will we have a wedding with cake and dance? Because Tim always talks about when you married Dad, and it seems unfair that he saw it and I didn't.”

A laugh escaped her, unable to believe everything she heard.

“I will not marry dad again, because we haven't divorced yet.”

“Then you'll go back to him.”

She sighed, shaking her head, thinking that she should work out how to approach Patrick and speak without fighting, without hurtful stares or tones of voice. The best thing would be to leave it for a day that he did not work, like Saturday. They would have time to talk, to put things in order, and he would finally return home. She was very sure, she completely trusted his love.

“I don't know, honey. I hope he wants that. But first we must arrange many things between ourselves.”

Teddy snorted, scratched his head hard.

“All this romantic conversation made my lice wake up.”

“Teddy! Don't tell me you have lice again!”

***

“Leave your practice works on my desk. See you next Thursday.”

They all got to their feet and began to leave the works next to Dr. Staton, who was looking at each one over his glasses.

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Turner,” he said when Shelagh approached. She smiled slightly, and left the classroom quickly.

Millie and Karen were absent, they were both ill, which caused Shelagh to spend her class hours sitting next to Jerry. The boy had not said a word, what is more, he had not even looked at her.

She walked through the wide corridors and when she reached the park, she saw Jerry running behind her.

“Shelagh, Shelagh!” he said, approaching.

“Something happens?”

Jerry shook his head. It was hot, they were in the sun, and he was completely red and exhausted.

“No, nothing happens. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for my behavior today. I...I didn't know what to say to you, and if I started to say something, Staton would see me. I'm sorry.”

“Jerry you didn't do anything,” she smiled at him, “Don't worry.”

“I'm really sorry about Thursday. I don't know why I said it, it just came out of my mouth before I could stop it. And...well, this is my last class. I will not stay to see if I passed the subject or not, because I got a job in a private clinic, and there is a good salary but many hours of work. So I won't be able to continue here. I just wanted to tell you that, so you know that I will no longer bother you.”

“Oh Jerry, you don't bother me. And I'm very sorry if you thought that I was interested in you. I congratulate you on your new job, I hope you can finish the specialization at another time. And that you can go to Africa.”

“The new job will allow me to earn more money to travel there. So that's okay,” he shrugged. Shelagh smiled at him.

“I know you will make a big difference there.”

Jerry seemed calmer, though he was tightening the strap of his bag.

“Well Shelagh, good luck with everything.”

“Good luck, Jerry.”

The boy walked quickly away. She shook her head, hoping he did not drop out just because of what he told her. It was a shame that he could not finish the specialization, but if the new job was true, he would be much better, less frustrated and hopeful for the future.

She walked toward the exit, staring at the ground, thinking about what had happened. When she raised her head, she stopped.

She recognized Patrick's car right away, and more so, Patrick leaning against the car, arms crossed, staring at her.

It took her a lot not to run to him, not to feel that she was melted by this new thing that she was experiencing: that the person she loved came to pick her up after her classes. She felt like a silly teenager.

She walked to him, Patrick uncrossed his arms.

“Hello,” he said, greeting her. He was not smiling, his gaze was strange.

“Hello. What are you doing here?” She could not help smiling, but when she saw that he did not respond to her smile, she got worried, “Did something happen to the children?”

“No, they are all fine. Who's that guy?”

“Who?”

“You were talking to a guy.”

She sighed, frustrated. Suddenly she did not want to talk to him about anything at all.

“He's a classmate. Did you come to make a jealous scene?”

“No, I came to talk to you.”

She hated herself when she could not suppress another hopeful smile.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you too.”

“I saw how that guy looked at you. He has feelings for you, doesn't he?”

“Patrick!” she exclaimed indignantly. He just ran his hands over his face, shaking his head.

“I don't blame him, you know? You are...beautiful. And one of your teachers called me a couple of days ago, and he mentioned that it's a pleasure to have you as a student. And I don't doubt it, you make everyone's day better.”

“Patrick, why are you here?” she said, trying to ignore what she heard.

“Come on, get in the car,” he stepped aside, opening the car door.

“No.” she answered frowning, “Patrick, tell me why are you here. I don't think you came to congratulate me, but I also don't think you came to watch who I speak to. What do you want to talk about?”

He closed the door, leaned against the car again.

“I want to talk to you before I go.”

“Go?”

She saw him gulp, staring at the ground. Then he raised his eyes.

“They offered me a job and I'll take it. Tonight I'm going to say goodbye to the children.”

“To say goodbye? Where are you going?”

He took a breath, released it.

“You won't like it when I tell you.”

“Don't scare me Patrick, will you go with Tim? So far?”

“No, he kills me if he sees me there. I'll go to the Outer Hebrides.”

She felt a couple of seconds pass, while she deduced if he was joking, or he was crazy.

“What did you say?”

“It's the same place we went.”

“That...that desolate place? Patrick, you're too old to go there!”

“Thanks for reminding me that,” he growled.

“It was a complicated place when we went, but we were younger…”

“It was ten years ago! Now it has changed more, but they need doctors. The one they had, he left.”

“I can't imagine why,” she said sarcastically.

“He moved to New York.”

She bit her lower lip, searching his gaze, but he was now staring at the ground. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed.

“They didn't offer it to you, did they? You looked for that job.”

He nodded.

“I only made a couple of calls and I knew it. They haven't had doctors in a while. And...I asked if I could go. They told me yes immediately. It will be good, more salary than I'm getting here. I'm going tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?! And for how long?”

"Six months."

She dropped the two books in her hands. It couldn't be true, it all seemed like a bad joke.

“Six months! Patrick you are leaving for six months! What will happen in the Maternity Home without you? What will happen with our children?”

“They don't need me anymore. You don't need me anymore. And the summer holidays are almost starting, the children can go and leave you time so you can study quietly. We will be fine, they will love the place and Angela and May will have a good time, and Teddy will have adventures and practice as a vet. I'll tell Tim, he'll like it too. Did you know that he bought his first car?”

“I don't care if he bought a car or an elephant! Patrick you are leaving for six months! What the hell is wrong with you?”

She felt her whole world collapse. Six months was a long time. It was too much to live without seeing him, without hearing him, without knowing he was there. She wanted to scream at him to stop that madness, to stay because she loved him.

In six months countless things could happen. Patrick might meet someone else. Something could happen to the children…

She felt rage, a deep rage, displacing all her sensitive feelings about him. Patrick would leave, leaving her with all the responsibilities of a family.

“You can't go, Patrick. You have a family. You can't leave me with everything here.”

“Shelagh, it's only a few months.”

“It's half a year! You're leaving for all that time just because you want to enjoy adventures out there, and you leave me with everything here!”

“We also had “adventures out there” several times!”

“It was for a couple of weeks, our children were well cared for, we went together, for God's sake! But you leave suddenly, from one day to the other, when I'm here starting something that I like, when we have our children with delicate problems. You're running away from everything! Patrick please stop acting like a teenager, you're a man damn it!”

Tears burst, she felt pain, and hatred, and disgust, and a terrible mix of things, things she could not believe that Patrick, _her Patrick_ , was producing in her. She looked around, luckily no one was there, the few students were far away, sitting in the university park. She could hear their joyous laughter, hurting her with their happiness.

“Shelagh,” he whispered, “Please, I need to do it. It's for our good. If I do, I can think, I can know how we continue.”

“You will do that, because I won't be able to think, I won't be able to do anything because I'll stay here, taking care of everything. Besides, why do you want to know how we will continue? You already have your lawyer, you already started the divorce. I'll do the same,”she gave a dry laugh, shaking her head, “And I, like a stupid planning how to tell you to come back with me, to try again. I've been thinking about you all this time and you were just figuring out how to go to that damn place to be alone. What are you thinking to do? Get another woman there? Or do you already have one here and want to have a peaceful honeymoon?”

“Shelagh don't start!”

“You are the one who starts everything! You are the one who makes disasters and then you go on holidays! You're the one who hurts me all the time, you always did, and I'm tired!”

She wiped away her tears with the back of her hands, and leaned over to gather her books and get out of there as quickly as possible.

“Shelagh, wait,” she heard behind her.

“No!”

“Shelagh!”

She felt him take her by the arm and force her to turn toward him.

“Let me go!”

“No!” she felt the tug on her arm, the strong grip of his hand and she complained, but he did not release her, “Shelagh, listen to me, please. The lawyer thing is false. I didn't see any lawyer, because I don't want to divorce you. Shelagh, I love you. I still love you, and I'll love you forever. I don't have another woman either, I only want you. I won't get divorced unless you want to.”

“Yes, I want to! Because I hate you! Let me, go where you want, I don't need you!”

She felt his lips on hers, voraciously and forcefully, and a moan escaped her mouth when she felt his demanding tongue. He was still squeezing her arm to prevent her from escaping, while the other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him. Her books fell again, she wanted to separate but her body did not respond, eager as it was to feel his touch, his lips, his warmth. Without her ordering, her arms were around his neck, drawing him to her, not letting him pull away. She missed this so much, she missed feeling him everywhere, she missed Patrick so much that for a moment she thought about surrendering to him, and asking him to take her to bed, to do what he wanted with her life, as long as he continued to kiss her like this. 

He loved her, but he was leaving. He was treating her this way again and she let that happen.

She pulled away, giving him a shove.

“Shelagh…”

“I don't want to see you, Patrick. Go away, leave me alone,” she began to gather her scattered books. He leaned down to help her, but she straightened instantly, looking directly at him.

“Shelagh, I'll be back, I promise you, I'll be back and everything will be fine.”

“Do you need to go? Can't we fix things now? You make everything so difficult.”

“I'll go, I'm sorry. I need to be alone, I need to know that I'm in a place where I'm really useful, I need to be away from you. Please, understand me.”

She sniffed, staring at the ground. She did not understand, could not and did not want to. Why was he hurting her like that? Why was he kissing her just to leave her? Why was he telling her that he loved her if then he left her to live his own adventure?

He never left her, he did not leave her alone even on that road when they met and he did not even know her name. But he did it now, years later, with thousands of problems and struggles between them. That was not love, it could not be love.

“You know what, Patrick? I love you too, I'm dying to be with you, but I don't behave like you. I never did it. I'm not leaving, I stay here, I try to fix things. Yes, I'm the one who started this, I'm the one to blame for saying the word _divorce_. But I can't take it anymore. Go away, I'll find my own lawyer, we have to put an end to all this.”

Turning her back on him, she began to walk.

She heard the laughter of the students again, and she held back the tears.

But she did not cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh these people are crazy!  
> And there is only one chapter left (and I think, perhaps, that I'll write an epilogue) so place your bets!  
> I'm writing a Shulienne fanfic, it's called "That Blue Sky" go and give it love.  
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here is the final chapter (there will be a little epilogue that I will post in a few days). I am sorry that it took so long, my head and mind were not with me, and for this story I needed to be completely focused with what I wrote. I think things did not turn out exactly the way I wanted, but at least here is the end.  
> Thank you very much for reading, commenting, and sending me messages asking for this story.  
> If you want to read more of me, remember that I started a new crossover fanfic with Shelagh and Anna Bates from Downton Abbey.  
> Thanks and I love you, dear reader!

_Four months later_

He leaned over her, kissing her, and instinctively she spread her legs, aching with the urge to have him there. His mouth worked wonders on her entire body, his hands touched her, awakening each of her nerves.

She sat up, startled.

She was alone, in the middle of a black night, where nothing could be heard but the faint rumble of a slowly approaching storm.

She tightened her eyelids, regulating her breathing, erasing one by one the fragments of the dream she had.

She looked around. As always, the bed was empty, there was only her body that seemed much smaller in so much space.

Pushing the covers aside, Shelagh lowered her legs off the bed, ready to go to the kitchen. She needed a drink, she needed a cigarette, she needed to pray. She needed anything to make her forget how much she missed him.

She had not seen him for three months. Four, if she did not count the lightning trip Patrick made for Angela and May's graduation. He was only at the ceremony and at the after party, but as he arrived he left, and she only saw him, it was impossible to cross a word with him because the children were occupying all his attention.

She has never been so long without being by his side. Even separated, from time to time she saw him, and she knew that by calling him, he would answer or come to the house, even if it was just to argue. Now hundreds of kilometers separated them and hundreds of minutes without seeing him, hearing him, feeling him.

It was a cruelty she did not deserve.

And yet, despite everything, he was right. Because without seeing him, hearing him or feeling him, fights were impossible. She could have any rational thought without being interrupted by him or by all the emotions that took over her female body to love or hate him desperately.

It was completely terrible to admit it, but without Patrick she was calm.

She was a separate and independent unit, she studied, worked, prepared her children, she did the shopping, she got the best grades, cooked and cleaned without having in her head the question of what would be the next trigger of a fight with her husband.

There were no screams, no tears, no hurtful words muttered.

There was no life either.

Because although she carried her days as a single woman, without problems or questions, and she discovered every moment that she was not as old and useless as she thought, she felt that something was missing. She was missing her life, the reason for her existence, the toxic and at the same time delicious reason why her heart was beating.

_Patrick._

As much as she tried not to think during the day, it was at night when treacherous dreams appeared, like the one she had just had, where she believed that when she woke up he would be by her side, ready to fulfill them.

He said he needed to get away and think. She had already done it, and a taste of her life as a single woman was enough, now she was sure of what she wanted, and what she wanted was for him to return. She did not know how to make things work, her head was spinning a lot of plans with little sustenance, which she immediately discarded. The right thing would be that both of them, together, make those plans. If she took control, everything would get out of control again.

She turned on the bedside table lamp and the light blinded her for an instant until she could focus her vision, aided by her glasses. Scattered around the room were her clothes, and on the floor, an open suitcase.

Her children insisted, and they had their right to do so. It was summer, it was vacations, very soon the adult obligations would begin. Their father now lived in a beautiful place, and they wanted to visit him.

But she was a mother, she could not help that side of hers, and she could not let Angela, May and Teddy travel alone. Teddy could get lost, the girls were young and beautiful, and she did not want to think about what might happen to them on a train at night.

So she started preparing her clothes, and herself, because she suspected that her motherly fears were true but also an excuse to see Patrick again.

The prospect of seeing him stoked all her expectations and insecurities again, and she could no longer stop thinking about him, how he would look like, what he would think when seeing her there. Would he fire her? Would he treat her badly? Would they start arguing right away?

She trembled at the thought of that and raised her eyes, praying to God, praying that her family would go back to how they were before and that Patrick would think well and return to her side.

The storm drew a little closer, the breeze rattled the curtain in her bedroom open window and she felt the skin on her arms crawl. It was not from cold, it was from fear.

What if Patrick was happy? What if he had found his place, and everything was wonderful to him? What if he decided he no longer wanted a life with her in Poplar or anywhere else?

She ruffled her hair, groaning at the feeling of her head completely filled with conflicting thoughts. With a powerful jerk she opened the drawer of her bedside table, searching for the packet of cigarettes she hid there. All her belongings, always perfectly ordered, shook due to the force with which she opened the small cabinet, and something appeared before her sight that she kept hidden well in the background, away from any gaze.

Tied with a faded pink ribbon, there were a pile of envelopes.

They were the letters he wrote to the sanitarium, letters full of worry, despair, and secret love. She did not need to read them, because she knew them by heart, if she closed her eyes she could tell in which letter he said exactly what.

Even so, she untied the ribbon, because there were other things there too: Valentine's cards, notes that accompanied bouquets of flowers, torn papers with a simple "I'll be back late, I love you." All written with his unmistakable handwriting, where she could see in each stroke all the love that he gave her.

She stroked each paper slowly, smiling slightly.

“What happened, Patrick?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Two tears fell and wet one of the notes, dampening the ink. She touched it with a fingertip to dry it, but the ink ran, and she burst into tears. She felt stupid, crying over some ink staining a note was really silly, but it was like a trigger for the artificial insecurity that she had imposed on herself. She was not happy, she did not live, she had nothing without him, and her entire future with Patrick seemed to fade as quickly as ink was disappearing from the paper.

She wiped her face and gathered the papers. She tied them back with the ribbon and put everything in the drawer, out of sight, as Patrick had once said, referring to the little nightgown she made in hopes of giving him a child.

She put a hand to her mouth, remembering that. Teddy was born, her little miracle. Even so, she was filled with fear and doubt when she thought of those moments of anguish, where she believed that she was wrong at every step and that she was being punished for her choice. Those hours of crying and grief would never be erased from her mind.

And then there was so much joy. So much love, the most complete happiness, a little paradise that she built together with Patrick, by dint of worries, sleepless nights, laughter and emotions on the surface. They went through so much together and now they were like this, months without seeing each other, without even speaking two words on the phone.

She remembered what Sister Julienne told her: "Let your heart guide you." She spent time ignoring that guidance, letting anger and pride take over her emotions.

“Tomorrow will be another day,” she said looking out the window, where she could see the lightning bolts.

Shelagh smiled, suddenly confident. Tomorrow would be another day, and she would be willing to face anything. She had the strength, she could do it.

***

“Mom, I can't find the blue sweater!”

“Teddy, you have hundreds of blue sweaters, which one?”

“It's summer, why do you want a sweater?”

“It's cold in the islands, May, didn't you hear what Dad said?”

Shelagh rolled her eyes. Of course the morning would be chaotic, how could she think otherwise? It was four hours before they started their trip, and that could be a long time anywhere, except in a house like hers. There were unassembled suitcases, she knew she was forgetting many things, and it would not stop raining.

They caught up with the train, barely five minutes before it left, and dropped into their seats, exhausted from the run on the platforms running over people.

“Now I hope you don't fight the whole trip,” Shelagh said, then opened her bag and pulled out a large package of sweets. The children put their hands in, eating and laughing.

“Easy mom, we are educated people,” Angela said, looking at her brother, who had the mouth full of sweets, “Except for the little beast we brought.”

“You are the beast!” the boy yelled. Shelagh sighed.

“If you are going to be like this, I will tie you to your seats.”

The children laughed, then seemed to calm down and just talked, asked questions, pointed to what they could see through the wet window and ate all the provisions their mother gave them. As the hours passed, boredom drove them to sleep.

The trip was exactly as Shelagh remembered it, with one exception: a long time ago, she traveled quite tight among her friends, but when sleep overcame her, she slept against Patrick's shoulder, smiling gratefully for the little intimacy. She had even woken up with a start from the train, and found Patrick staring at her, and he gave her a little kiss, thinking they were all asleep. She still remembered Nurse Crane's stern gaze, no doubt thinking it would be torturous a trip with a couple behaving like teenagers. She remembered feeling a bit self-conscious but also a bit rebellious, entangling her hands in her husband's arm, resting her head on his shoulder, showing that she, unlike the rest, could sleep next to the man she loved. She was selfish, but that simple foolish act had made her feel strong and secure in front of others, especially Mother Mildred.

Now her head was against the cold wall of the train, and next to her Teddy shifted, uncomfortable, and in front of her eyes, her two daughters huddled under a blanket.

She sighed and looked out the window, although in the darkness little could be seen. She only saw huge fields full of grass, sometimes with animals.

Traveling always made her a little sad. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine what she would find the next day.

***

When they got off the train they noticed that it was cooler and wetter than London. Shelagh checked the time as her children crawled through the station, looking for a place to eat because according to them, they were _undernourished._ She laughed to find her bag full of wrappers of sweets, cookies and chocolates that her children ate but apparently had not quenched their ravenous hunger.

It was ten o'clock in the morning, Timothy would be traveling from Manchester in his new car that everyone wanted to see. He had warned that he would surely arrive at noon, _if he found the hole where his father surely lived._

It would be a family holidays, though Shelagh doubted they were a family. But Tim insisted on going when he knew that his siblings would be traveling.

“Let's take a taxi!” she yelled, though her children were already entering a small buffet.

She followed them, the scent of coffee making her stomach rumble. Everyone in the buffet looked them up and down and she felt intimidated. She remembered that the Outer Hebrides was not very friendly when they arrived with the Order. A man came up to her, he was disheveled and walking with a limp.

“Where are you from, sweetie?”

Always protective, Teddy stood beside her, staring at the man.

“We're just visiting,” Shelagh tried to smile. The man frowned.

“Visits, here? Who do you visit?”

“Dr. Turner. My husband,” her voice underlined the word husband, which made the man take a half step away from her.

“I didn't know he has a wife. He's a good doctor! I'll call my friend to take you in his truck.”

“It’s not necessary, we will take a taxi.”

“Taxi? There is not that here, well, there are but they are very expensive. We are grateful to the doc, so the best we can do for him is to bring his lovely wife to him.”

The man yelled into the buffet and another man who looked identical came out. They spoke in Gaelic and then the other man smiled.

“My Jeep is over here. I'll take you right away.”

Shelagh looked around. The other people watched them without saying anything.

“Mom, we better go,” Angela whispered, clutching a packet of sandwiches, “The man seems friendly, and if there are no taxis… what else will we do? I don't want to stay here, I don't think they like us.”

She nodded, agreeing with her daughter.

In truth the man seemed friendlier than the others, and he loaded the suitcases into his Jeep and chatted the whole way, but Shelagh just nodded, not paying attention.

The place looked the same as before, and when they reached the small town, she wondered in which of all those stone houses was her husband.

“And here we are!” the man announced triumphantly, parking in front of a house facing the sea. He honked the horn twice but no one came out, “Umm, the doc must have left for an emergency…”

Shelagh's heart sank. As always, Patrick was busy with other things.

Even so, the children jumped out of the vehicle.

“Oh, how beautiful everything is!” May exclaimed, Angela you could paint all this. Teddy, there are sheep, you can practice with them!”

Slowly, Shelagh got out of the Jeep, the wind hitting her, though it was not cold.

“If you want I can stay here with you, ma'am,” said the man, “Until the doc arrives.”

“No thanks, it's fine,” she smiled at him.

The man greeted her with a tilt of his cap when she thanked him, and left quickly when Shelagh asked how much she should pay for the trip.

“The doc is a good man, it's a small reward for him,” the man said before disappearing with his Jeep.

She stood next to the suitcases, in front of the door of the house, not quite sure what to do. She looked around, there were several houses facing the sea, others on a hill. Her children were already running towards the beach, May had the camera in hand and was taking pictures of her siblings who were trying to pose as models of magazines while they burst into contagious giggles.

She looked at them, laughing too, but inspecting everything. The house was small, a windswept stone cottage, but neat and pretty.

She thought of the two men's words, how they referred to Patrick. _He is needed and loved here,_ she thought. A chill ran down her spine.

The children began jumping and screaming looking out to sea. There was a small boat approaching. The chorus of "Dad, Dad!" it became more and more powerful, and they slipped on the small stones of the beach, as they ran towards the shore.

She watched the girls rush into their father's arms once he reached the shore, while Teddy stayed a little further away. Patrick, May and Angela almost fell into the water and uproarious laughter echoed throughout the place, and when the girls let their father get off the boat, Patrick hugged their children and filled them with kisses.

He looked younger with his tousled hair and his huge smile. She saw him go up to the cottage, the children talking all at once, telling him things, pointing to the sheep, the sea, asking him to go fishing, asking about everything they saw.

The wind ruffled his hair, and he looked taller in those wellies. He was slimmer but more athletic, the black sweater he was wearing was a little too big for him but not too bad. His smile shone with joy as did his gaze, but it suddenly darkened when he realized she was standing there.

“Hello Shelagh,” he whispered. The children were silent.

“Hello Patrick.”

“Mom wouldn't let us come alone because she says it's dangerous,” Teddy explained, looking exasperated, “And absolutely nothing happened.”

She felt his gaze on her, and she shivered. She could not figure out what he was thinking, if she was welcome, or if it was better to leave as soon as possible.”

“That's very good,” he replied to his son, but without taking his eyes off her, “Nothing happened because Mom was there.”

Then he looked at his daughters, smiled at them.

“I'm sorry that you came when I wasn't here. A woman went into labor on the other side of the islands, but it was a false alarm. Come home, come on. I have a big cake that I hope Mist didn't eat.”

“Mist?” May asked.

“My cat. Because I have a cat, you know?”

“You have a cat? Yes!!!” the three exclaimed, and they screamed louder when a cat appeared at the window, confused to see so many hands caressing it.

“It's gray, hence the name.”

She felt his gaze on her again and something twitched in her stomach. The cat was gray, yes, but there was something else behind its name. There was mist, and a lonely road. She opened her mouth to say something, although she did not know what. She was surprised, excited, she wanted to ask him if he felt the same love that she felt when she remembered the day they really saw each other for the first time.

“Oh Doctor Turner, everyone is here!”

Shelagh could not help being angry at whoever interrupted the minimal but valuable contact she was having with her husband.

She turned and saw a young blond woman smiling broadly with something in her hands. Patrick seemed to light up and approached the woman, greeting her in Gaelic. Shelagh looked at him stunned. Since when did he speak that language? And since when did he smile and chat with whores like that woman?

Shelagh bit her lower lip, the woman seemed kind, just that, she had no right to think so bad of her, but she was handing Patrick a tray with a big cake and he was thanking her like it was the most valuable thing in the world.

Shelagh looked at her children, oblivious to everything, taking pictures of the cat, making him play with a blade of grass. Patrick thanked the woman once more, and she walked away down the path, until she entered the nearest house.

“That's my neighbor, Miss Green. She brought more cake.”

“Good!” Teddy said, following his father into the cottage.

The girls grabbed their suitcases and went inside, calling the cat to follow them. Shelagh entered last, looking at everything carefully.

It was a small house, the living room and the kitchen were together, there was a worn green sofa, medical magazines everywhere, a fireplace and a table with rustic chairs. Patrick put the cake there and walked over to the counter, where he checked that the other cake he had was intact.

The boys sat down, she did the same.

"I'll make tea and… do you want coffee, Shelagh?"

"No, I'm fine," she said too harshly. The cottage's door was left open, so from her place at the table she could see the blonde woman's house. It was far away, but also very close.

Her children completely ignored her, which she appreciated. They were busy with the cat, with their father, with everything they saw around. She was listening to them talking, the joy in all their voices, and she just nodded, glancing out at that little house like this, where a woman baked cakes for Patrick.

She tried to breathe deeply, looking for a way to calm her heart, punishing herself for being so silly.

They heard a horn and the children rushed out. Outside was a shiny blue car, from which Timothy got out.

“Dad, couldn't you get into another more complicated place? I've been hanging around for an hour!”

“Stop complaining big man,” Patrick hugged his son in a tight hug, then kissed him on the head, “I missed you so much. Look at this machine!”

Timothy greeted everyone, and gave Shelagh a wink that she did not understand. Then he began to joke with his siblings, who were busy inspecting the car down to the smallest details.

“I'm starving, did you bring something to eat, mom?”

“There's cake,” said Patrick, “Come, let's go inside. Oh, and you don't know what lunch I'll make!”

Shelagh followed them inside, though she preferred to stay with her little ones outside. Timothy joked about his father's culinary disasters, then talked about his job and his girlfriend Kate. Shelagh remained silent, staring at him across the table. Tim was obviously happy, things were much better with his girlfriend, there was the possibility of a promotion at the hospital, and he had his own car, although it was second-hand and he was paying for it in installments. Patrick was looking at him with pride painted all over his face.

“We'll go see the sheep!” May announced, appearing suddenly, leaning out the door. She was off before her father started recommending, and Shelagh saw her children running down the hill, screaming and laughing.

Seeing that her eldest son and Patrick were discussing the possibilities of the car's engine, Shelagh silently stood up and went outside.

She needed a cigarette, she also needed to flee, but she was in the most remote place and she could not escape. She looked out to sea, and walked to the back of the house, which faced the water and the morning sun.

From the corner of her eye, she glanced toward the blond neighbor's house. She thought of how young and revitalized Patrick looked. She also thought that she believed she had the strength and courage to face all this.

She did not have them.

She leaned against the wall of the house, her hands trembling and she shoved them into the pockets of the light coat she was wearing. She closed her eyes, letting the warm sun and wind wipe away the little tears that flowed.

_You're stupid, Shelagh. You thought he would be suffering for you. You lost him, you lost him forever._

She spent several minutes there, mentally punishing herself.

She heard the sound of footsteps on the stones near her and turned abruptly. She found Patrick approaching.

“Tim is unpacking.”

She just nodded, not looking at him.

“Sorry, Shelagh, I didn't know you were coming. I was surprised when I saw you.”

“I realized you weren't expecting me. Anyway I'll be leaving tomorrow.”

“What?”

Her own mind also screamed "What?!" but she paid no attention to it.

She turned to look at him.

“There’s a train that leaves at 9, I'll go on that one. The children can go back to London with Timothy.”

She had not planned that, she was saying it on impulse, but that was what she had to do, go away and continue alone in Poplar, accepting resignedly that this would be her life forever.

“If that's what you want…” he whispered, kicking a pebble.

“Of course that is what I want, if not, I wouldn’t do it,” she spat the words.

He sighed, exasperated.

“Are you already fighting?”

“I'm not fighting, I'm just informing you what I'll do.”

"Good," Patrick turned around to go back inside the house.

“What is her name?”

“Whose?” He turned, looking at her strangely.

“That woman,” she raised her chin, indicating the neighbor's house.

“Miss Green, I already told you.”

“No, her name.”

“Lesra. Why do you ask that?”

“How long have you been with her?”

“Shelagh what are you saying?” he looked outraged and that infuriated her.

“I say what I see. She seems very happy that you are here and so are you.”

“Shelagh, she's my neighbor, that's all! I told her that my children were arriving today and she made a cake, which of course is much better than the one I made, so I was happy when I saw her with the tray.”

“Well, I didn't see just that,” she took two steps away, he followed her.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you jealous now? I remind you that the one who asked for a divorce was you!”

“And I see you very happy with that!”

“Oh no, you've already started.”

They both turned, and saw Timothy. He stood with his arms folded, looking at them almost with contempt.

“This is something incredible, you are two minutes together and already fighting and screaming. Really, I thought you two changed, but I was so wrong.”

“Tim…” Patrick started, but his son shook his head. He looked disappointed and sad.

“You don't even try to get along for a day. Is there a good place to camp here? I want to take my siblings; I don't want them to be near you because you will ruin their holiday.”

“It won't be necessary Tim, I'll be leaving tomorrow,” Shelagh walked past him to enter the house. She heard both men following her.

“Shelagh...”

“Mom, don't be like that.”

“I'll go Tim, I know Angela, May and Teddy will be fine with you traveling to London. Everyone will have a nice holiday without me here, don't worry.”

“Shelagh don't talk nonsense,” Patrick replied, his voice angry and full of annoyance.

She stopped and looked at him.

“I'm not talking to you, Patrick.”

“Stop!”

They were startled when they heard Tim's scream. He was red with fury, he was breathing hard, looking at each of them in frustration.

“You are completely exasperating, you are two idiots! I look at you and I feel like I hate you,” he spat.

Shelagh saw Patrick look at his son almost scared, but Tim continued.

“Let's see, Shelagh, why are you leaving? What the hell is wrong with you now?”

She felt her soul ache to hear Tim calling her by her name and not his loving "mom." In terror, she thought she had just forfeited that title forever.

“Nothing, Tim,” she whispered.

“Then stay.”

“No.”

“Why?”

She looked at Patrick, his gaze down.

“Your father has another woman. It doesn't make sense for me to stay here.”

Patrick looked up.

“Shelagh, stop making a fuss, she's just a neighbor, she lives with her sick parents, she's grateful to have a doctor nearby. She's kind, like everyone here. She only brought a damn cake, but you think the worse because you think the whole world revolves around you! And you always think the worst of me! You always did, because you're a ...!”

“Dad!” Tim shouted again, “I don't care who you fuck, but respect her. Don't yell at her like that.”

“Leave him Timothy, he…” She gritted her teeth, ready to say something to Patrick in the most hurtful way possible, but she stopped. There was her son, and she swore that her children would never witness something like this, no matter that Tim was an adult.

She shook her head, swallowing her tears. She wished it was all a nightmare.

But Patrick dropped into a chair. He hid his face in his hands, she heard him sigh.

“I'm sorry Shelagh,” he said without looking at her. Then he raised his eyes, “I'm so sorry that you believed something that is not, and I'm sorry for what I told you.”

She looked at him, holding her breath. She did not know why he was giving in.

Tim cleared his throat, she looked at him. The boy pointed at his father with a shake of his head.

She took a shaky breath and sat down across the table, across from Patrick. She swallowed hard, ran the back of a hand over her face to wipe a falling tear away.

Maybe it was time to make peace.

She felt ashamed that this was possible just because her sweet son had reached the point of exploding, tired of the whole situation.

“It’s okay,” was all she could say. There was a lump in her throat, but she swallowed it, and raised her eyes to look at him, “It’s okay, Patrick.”

“I’ll go with the children to teach them to drive my car. And don't you dare say no.”

Timothy turned and left the house. They heard the sound of the car starting, then the sound of the wheels on the pebbles of the road, driving away in search of their siblings who were scattered across the field.

When all was silent and only the sound of the breeze and the sea was heard, they both sighed, without looking at each other, their eyes fixed on the table. Shelagh reached out her hand just barely, brushed his fingers. He opened his hand, tangled his fingers with hers, and squeezed them weakly.

“I'm sorry, Shelagh,” he repeated.

She just nodded. Tears began to pool again in her eyes.

She released his hand and stood up.

“I'll go and put things away for the children.”

He stood up too, pulled his chair closer to the table.

“There are only two rooms, but I prepared them so that we are comfortable. Come.”

She followed him down a narrow corridor. There was a room on each side and at the back the bathroom.

“Tim and Teddy can sleep with me, we'll keep company in our snoring,” Patrick chuckled slightly, “You and the girls can be in this other room, it faces the sea, and it's bigger. And...you can go to the bathroom, it's here.”

His voice was nervous.

“Perfect.”

They stayed in the corridor, although the two of them barely fit.

She looked up and met his eyes, fixed on her. She remembered when, during the evacuation of the bomb, they had both been in the corridor of his house, looking at each other without knowing very well what to do even though she was dying to kiss him, but she was so nervous and uncomfortable, arriving to his home suddenly in the middle of the night. Patrick lent her his pajamas and walked her to the bathroom, but then they stood in front of the door, looking at each other, away from little Tim. Patrick had interpreted her nerves, and only brought his mouth to her cheek, always careful not to scare or intimidate her with his loving actions.

It had been a small but significant moment of intimacy.

Now things seemed the same, and different. They were in the same space, close, with too many words left unsaid, but also with distrust, full of uncertainty.

She took a step back, entering the room that was assigned to her. Patrick ran his hand through his tousled hair, staring at the ground.

“Are you leaving tomorrow?” he finally said.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Please, Shelagh. Don’t do it.”

She swallowed hard at the implication of his words and his pleading look. She reached a hand for his hair, but stopped midway. He smiled sadly.

“I'll let you settle in and put things away. Don't you really want tea? Or coffee?”

“A coffee would be nice.”

He left, and she turned toward the room. It was all stone and wood, but Patrick took care to arrange it. There are fresh flowers in a small vase, two beds and a rather large sofa, many blankets and some pillows with pink lace trim.

A thought crossed her mind.

_Maybe that woman prepared everything._

She shook her head. If she kept thinking like that, all her anger would return and this time it would explode louder, and maybe not Tim would be there to calm the storm, but her youngest children and that would be awful.

The tears started to form again, and she was tired of it.

_What's the matter with you, Shelagh?_ She recriminated herself. _Why are you acting like this, why are you so petty?_

She opened her suitcase, and took out her Bible. She held it against her chest, whispered a little psalm that she knew by heart. She needed strength, she needed guidance. God seemed to give no answer; he was not throwing a lifeline into this stormy sea that was churning around her.

She heard the sound of cups and opened her eyes. She ran her hands through her hairstyle, it was undone and her face would surely look terrible.

She left the room and went into the bathroom, washed her face, avoiding looking in the mirror. When she got back to the kitchen, Patrick already had one slice of each cake on two small plates and two cups of coffee.

She sat across from him and took a sip of the coffee. It was just the way she liked it, strong but sugary.

“How are the kids?” he asked, without looking at her.

“Good. They have improved a lot.”

Patrick nodded.

“They really wanted to see you.”

She saw him smile a little, eating a little piece of cake.

“How are things with Angela?”

“Oh, she was a little angel again. And she's seen her...mother, a couple of times. But she said that for now, she doesn't want to have any more contact.”

“I know I shouldn't say this, but I'm relieved.”

“Yes, me too,” she sighed, “We didn't know anything more about Robert. He disappeared.”

“I hope he never shows up again,” Patrick growled, “What about May? She seems more relaxed.”

“She is. Now she’s a little anxious to start university, but I know that even though she will have to study more than before, she will make more friends.”

“Yes, she will meet more people with the same interests. Teddy?”

She laughed a little at the thought of her youngest son.

“He says that two girls are after him because they want to be his girlfriends.”

Patrick bit back a laugh, but then laughed.

“Do you think it's true?”

“If you see how annoying he gets when you ask him about that, you'll see that it is!” she laughed too.

“Then I'll ask him and we'll have a good laugh!”

“Poor thing, it's not his fault being so pretty,” Shelagh laughed, Patrick ate more cake, laughing too, “And about school, you know he finished the course very well.”

“Yes, a 9 in math is undoubtedly a great achievement. And you…? How are you doing with the university?”

She shrugged, putting the cup on the table and playing with the handle.

“Good.”

He raised an eyebrow, for the first time looking directly at her but with amusement in his eyes.

She felt her nerves twist, this could be any morning they shared together at home, laughing and joking.

“What happens?” she asked, unable to help but smile at him.

“I don't think you just do "good.”

She gave an embarrassed giggle.

“Very good.”

“I knew it. You can only do very good or excellent, because I’m sure you’re one of the best students. Will you continue next year?”

She ignored what she had just heard, even though she had almost choked on the cake.

“Yes, I'll continue. I like it, it's a nice place and I learned a lot. Although it will be a bit strange to go to classes with the girls, surely they will try to make no one see me or know that I am their mother.”

He smiled a little, sipping his coffee.

“It will be nice to see all three of you together.”

She heard the nostalgia in his voice, and suppressed the desire to touch him. She felt nervous, and she knew those nerves, they were the same ones that attacked her when they first met and they spent the first moments alone, not knowing quite what to say or do, but longing to stay together.

“Do you want more?” Patrick pointed to her plate, with only cake crumbs.

“Yes...Did you really make this cake?”

He looked suddenly embarrassed, his cheeks red. He stood up and turned his back on her, cutting more slices.

“Yes, but I did what I could. Sometimes having good intentions is not enough.”

“Patrick, this is very good.”

“It has some fruits that only grow here, and they are very sweet. There is an old woman who cooks some delicious cakes and cookies, she offered a thousand times to teach me until I felt sorry... She really just wants someone to chat with. So I accepted and she taught me. I burned a lot while trying, not too long ago I managed to do it decently. Anyway, my cakes will never be like Nonnatus's, remember those?”

“Oh yes!” Shelagh laughed, covering her mouth full of cream, “I never got Mrs B to tell me her secrets! I think she didn't want competition in being Sister Monica Joan’s favorite.”

Patrick laughed, louder this time. Then he became suddenly serious.

“Those were good times, weren't they?”

“Yes,” she whispered, “But it is over.”

The cat jumped onto her lap and rubbed against her. Shelagh appreciated the distraction, stroked him.

“I think he likes you,” Patrick said.

They heard a roar and honks. They looked out the door, Tim's car was moving slowly, it looked like an animal in convulsions.

“Oh no, look who's driving,” Patrick pointed a finger.

Angela was behind the wheel, and all of her siblings were laughing out loud. Shelagh looked at Patrick and they laughed, shaking their heads.

The children got out, Angela seemed furious, ranting about how difficult it was to drive a big car loaded with immature people.

“You'll learn, honey,” Shelagh hugged her, and heard Patrick invite the others in to start preparing lunch.

They walked in, the children went to investigate the rest of the little house, and Shelagh heard them jokingly quarrel over who would sleep where. She stayed in the kitchen, next to Patrick who was starting to make food.

“Do you want me to help you?” she offered, although it seemed surreal to see him cook.

He smiled, shrugged.

“Almost everything is ready, I just need some potatoes.”

“I'll do that,” she took off her coat and rolled up her blouse. She noticed that he was looking at her sideways as she peeled the potatoes.

They didn't say anything, though she wanted to tell him how amazed she was that he knew how to cook fish. They moved through the kitchen with the naturalness learned over the years, until she finished with the potatoes and he began to arrange them in a platter. Suddenly she realized how close they were, and took a step away.

“Do you think that is enough?” he said looking at the platter, apparently ignoring her discomfort.

“Well, considering that feeding our children is like feeding an entire army...I'd say yes.”

“They're like little piranhas,” they both laughed, and Shelagh saw Teddy peering in the corridor.

“What happen dear?”

“I…” hesitated the boy. Shelagh knew right away that he was making up a lie in his head.

“Yes, Teddy?” Patrick looked at him, crossing his arms.

“I was wondering if you could take us fishing.”

“We'll go tomorrow.”

Teddy nodded and ran back to his room. Patrick turned back to the food and said in a whisper:

“It’s clear that they sent him to spy on us.”

Shelagh smiled, putting the dishcloth on the counter.

***

The day passed calmly, Shelagh could feel her body slowly relax. The fresh and natural surroundings and the laughter of her children were a little balm. She had not spoken any more words in private with Patrick, but with her children present, and it was all kindness. It was not suspicious kindness, it seemed genuine.

Patrick took Teddy to see an old man who raised sheep, to tell him about them, and then they went for a cow that Patrick helped deliver her little calf. The children, and she too, looked at him in amazement when he told them about the feat, and she did not believe much of the story until the farmer himself confirmed it.

They went to sleep early, they were tired from the trip and all day.

But despite all that, the dream seemed to have escaped through the window. The sofa where she must sleep was comfortable; she saw that her daughters were sleeping peacefully. The moonlight came through the window and she could hear the sea moving. Everything was peaceful, but she could not sleep.

She wondered if she would leave in the morning or not. The day had started so bad and then got so much better. She was afraid of staying and ruining everything at any moment, or going away and losing the image of her entire family, enjoying all things.

She turned on the sofa until she got up. Her throat was dry, and in the dark she could not see anything, so of course she bumped her foot against something she did not even know what it was. She swallowed a groan of pain so as not to wake anyone and went to the kitchen.

“Shelagh?”

“Jesus!” she let out a whispered scream from fright, “Patrick what are you doing here?”

She narrowed her eyes, and he lit a lamp. He was sitting on the sofa, in front of the dead fireplace, with the cat asleep on his lap.

“I couldn't sleep, I was...thinking about the woman who had the false alarm today. It’s almost certain that they will call me and that makes me uneasy. Did you bump with something?”

“Yes, I have no idea what it is. I'll pour myself some water.”

“Oh, can you bring me a glass of water for me?”

She poured both glasses and handed him his. She sat down next to him, although she had no need to. She made an excuse for herself: to pet Mist.

“Why are you worried about this delivery?” she asked, tucking her legs under her body to ward off the cold.

“Primigravida. They were struggling a lot until she was could conceive and there were some problems throughout the pregnancy. And I'm afraid that at the last minute something will go wrong, you know, I can't help but think the worst.”

She nodded, took a few sips of water, thinking in her own case. She was also primigravida, there were also problems in the pregnancy, and he thought the worst until the last moment.

“Do you remember that when we came with the Order, I went with Fred, Nurse Anderson and Nurse Dyer to the lighthouse? There was a woman in labor and then I had to intervene on her for appendicitis.”

“Yes, of course I remember,” Shelagh frowned as she remembered the concern she felt that night.

“The family is still there, and the boy is strong and healthy. They have a girl too. I visited them last week, the father broke his arm, and I told them that my children would be here. The boy asked me to invite them. There are not many children around here and when there are they are a novelty.”

“It would be nice if they met. Tell them, they sure will love meeting new people, especially May,” Shelagh looked at her now empty glass, and lowered her legs from the sofa, “Well, I'll go to sleep.”

“Shelagh.”

She stopped.

“Yes?”

“Will you go tomorrow?”

She looked at him. The lamp shone in his sad and worried eyes. She always melted before his tender eyes, but she came to hate his looks of anger and contempt.

Shelagh looked away, trying to figure out what Patrick was up to: fixing things or confusing her more.

She decided to put aside her pride, but not her determination. So she did not leave, but continued to sit there, but without looking at him, and ready to find out what was going on.

“What do you want, Patrick?”

He lowered his eyes, looked at the content of his glass.

“I'd like you to stay. The children would be happy. We all would be. But if you don't want to...I won't make you.”

She thought for a couple of seconds. She could say no, she could start another silly discussion.

Or she could let her heart guide her. Her heart asked for happiness, and she seemed to have found it, she did not know if in Patrick, but in the laughter of her cheeky children who hoped to enjoy a nice holiday.

“All right, I'll stay.”

He looked at her, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Thank you.”

“But Patrick, I don't want fights or bad insinuations. Or anything we do every time we are in the same place for more than a minute.”

“I understand, Shelagh, and I promise, there will be none of all that.”

_There will be none of all that_. She seemed to hear the hope in that phrase. Instinctively she moved closer to him, just a few millimeters. She looked into his eyes, which were fixed on hers.

She wanted to kiss him, she wanted to recompose like this, with kisses. Suddenly she felt the courage to do so, and she moved a little closer, but he stood up. The cat jumped up, complaining.

“Well, I don't think they will call me tonight,” he said, his nervous voice betraying the causal manner in which he intended to speak. Shelagh looked at him from the sofa, begging him to come closer again. He approached, but extended his hand, “Have you finished the water? I'll wash the glasses.”

“Yes, yes,” she whispered, handing him the item. Then she stood up.

“I'll go to sleep.”

“Don't hurt yourself again, please,” she heard from behind her.

When she lay down, she curled up in the covers and sighed. She was confused, and confusion was always her worst enemy.

***

“Does everyone have their fishing rods ready?” asked Patrick.

They were going fishing off a beach a little far away, but it was safe. Timothy insisted on taking them all in his car.

They loaded the things in the trunk and traveled a few kilometers, until Patrick pointed out a place where the sun was hot and the wind was not so strong.

“We'll fish a lot and then eat everything in our camping,” May said, carrying a box of hooks.

“Camping?” Shelagh asked.

“Well, the lighthouse keeper's son wants to meet us, so we'll go and stay tonight. Tim has a big tent, it will be great and I’ll be able to do a lot of research on the people here!”

May walked away with the box, looking very pleased to put her knowledge of anthropology and sociology into practice. Shelagh watched her walk to shore, chatting with her siblings.

“What happens to these children?!”

“Shelagh are you okay?” she heard Patrick's voice behind her. He was carrying a fishing rod in one hand.

“May says that tonight they will camp at the lighthouse and that Tim has a tent, I didn't know about all this!”

“I told you that the boy wants to meet them.”

“Yes, but...They will go like this, suddenly, without telling the family before...What will the parents think?”

Patrick laughed a little.

“I'm sure they won't mind. Leave them, they are already grown.”

“Yes, I suppose so…” she agreed reluctantly, “I don't know how they will get there.”

“They'll go with Tim, on the boat. Don't worry, there will be no storms, if they fall into the water they won't drown.”

“Patrick!”

He giggled again; together they started walking towards the shore.

“They'll be fine, Shelagh. They just want to have adventures. And I'm thankful that Tim, despite being an adult, continues to act like a child.”

“Yes, it's nice to see them all together. I hope their tent doesn't fall on their heads!”

They laughed, remembering another and more disastrous camping. As they walked, Shelagh felt Patrick's free hand tangle around hers. She stayed static, letting herself be carried away by him, until a small smile blossomed on her face and emotion took over.

She squeezed his hand and they walked together. When they reached the shore, they saw Angela see them and say something in Teddy's ear, who glanced at them and then walked over to Tim, who was further away preparing his supplies.

***

Despite the family's efforts, the fishing was not very abundant, and when they returned home, Mist demanded his ration of fresh fish, so Shelagh packed a lot of food so that none of her children would starve during the camping. Patrick gave them chocolates to share with the lighthouse keeper's children, and very quickly they all boarded.

She looked at them, nervous about everything that could happen in the sea, what the lighthouse family would think of these children, and most of all, being alone with Patrick.

She berated herself not to leave in the morning, and thus avoid this entire situation that she waited a long time, and that now she did not dare to confront.

She looked around. It was dusk, the sea looked beautiful and the boat with all her children was moving fast.

“Do you want to walk?” said Patrick.

“N...no. I’m a little cold,” she lied. She thought about going to sleep.

“Then let's eat and have something warm.”

“Was any food left?”

Patrick smiled, entering the house.

“I doubt they left us anything more than stones.”

She followed him, suddenly she felt even more nervous. She prayed to God that anyone needed Patrick and that he left, because she could not do it. The cat was not even there to distract her, because it had disappeared after eating the fish.

“Shelagh?”

She raised her head, he was looking at her with concern.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes...I was only thinking about the children. I feel a bit cold, I'll go to bed.”

She walked to her room, but felt a hand on one of her arms, gently squeezing to stop her. She turned, but did not look at him.

“Shelagh, please,” she heard a small whisper. This time she raised her eyes and looked at him, scared.

“What happens?” she asked foolishly.

He released her slowly.

“I think we need to talk.”

She swallowed hard, tried to put on a brave smile, despite the panic that emerged, threatening to swallow her like a great wave.

He lived happily here; she saw it in those two days. He was comfortable, calm, he looked perfect. Anything he had to say to her would be related to that, and she did not want to hear it.

“I...I already told you, I don't feel very well and...”

“Please.”

It sounded like a plea. She also wanted to plead him.

Lowering her head, she nodded slightly. She did not accept to speak, she accepted defeat.

Patrick walked away, clearing his throat.

“I'll prepare something for us to eat,” His voice was a sham; it showed a lightness that did not exist.

“It's not necessary, Patrick. Just tell me what you have to say,” she crossed her arms, trembling.

“Good,” he said,” “First, I'll light the fireplace, I think it's getting very cold now.”

She saw him taking some logs, putting them in the fireplace and lighting the fire.

She sat on the sofa. The warmth relaxed her a little.

“Do you want wine?”

She shook her head. He took a deep breath and released it shakily. Wiping his hands on his pants, he sat on the sofa too, not looking at her, his eyes on the crackling fire.

“Shelagh, I...”

She tightened her lids.

“…I want to tell you that I'm very sorry. For everything that happened. You know, the fights, the yelling, the accusations, my behavior when you proposed the university, and when you started your new job, when I decided to come here...Everything. I was really mean to you, and you didn't deserve any of that. I was a bastard. And I hurt everyone too, not just you.”

She opened her eyes, looking at the fire. She wanted to cry, the enumeration of things that Patrick did, made her remember all the tense and sad situations that she lived, and they quickly passed before her eyes, like a bad horror movie.

“I hope you can forgive me,” he finished.

She barely nodded, though she was not sure. But if Patrick was giving in, putting some peace between them, she could not do otherwise. Also, in his voice she heard sincerity.

“You'll stay here forever, won't you?”

“You didn't tell me if you would forgive me or not, Shelagh,” she heard his sad whisper.

She took a deep breath, gritted her teeth.

“Yes.”

“Well, we've made a start.”

Hearing those words, she looked at him. He was giving her a half smile. He looked perfect, with the flames lighting up his face, which although aged and always tired, was the face that she loved. Unintentionally, she smiled at him too.

“I...I'm so sorry too,” she swallowed, looked down, “I was terrible. Until yesterday I was. I don't know what happened to me, I suppose I was blinded by jealousy, and that I always wanted things my way...And...I don't know, I felt drowned by you and your work. I'm sorry I asked you for a divorce, I'm sorry for everything I did, maybe I was too tough, or maybe I wasn't enough, maybe...”

A tear crossed her cheek and she hated herself for being so weak and starting to cry when she did not want to. She took it off with her hand, before he could see it.

“I'm sorry, Patrick.”

She closed her eyes, trying to regulate her breathing.

She felt that she was surrounded by his arms, that Patrick was pressing her against him and she could not help it anymore. A sob broke out, and she began to cry into his shoulder, clinging to him, desperate to have him close.

“No Shelagh, don't cry,” she heard him whisper into her hair, but she sobbed even more, unable to close the floodgate of her suffering.

She pulled away a bit, breathing and trying to calm herself.

“Please say it once and for all, Patrick,” she begged, “Tell me you'll stay here and won't come back, and that this is over. I can't stand living like this anymore, not knowing what will happen.”

“I won't do that, Shelagh.”

Her sob was choked in her chest, she looked up at him.

He cupped her face with both hands, wiped her tears with his thumbs.

“I won't stay here. I'll return to London. And with you, if you want.”

“Yes, yes, please I want,” she agreed desperately. He barely smiled.

“Are you certain?”

“I'm completely certain.”

He smiled more widely this time.

And he kissed her.

Feeling his lips on hers made her understand that if she missed him before, she was wrong. She missed him terribly, miserably and madly, because she had lived like a dead body, and now with his arms around her, his kisses, his warmth, she felt alive again.

As much as she was angry, that sometimes she even felt hatred towards him, that she cried and cried, she could not change that. She belonged to him, it was always like that. And he was hers, forever. To deny it was to deny destiny, life, God.

She moaned when he wanted to separate, pulled him closer to her with one hand on his shoulder, and he began to kiss her more deeply, his hands everywhere, awakened to her skin numb from months and months of sadness. She was starving for him, yearning to make up for lost time.

He pulled away, looking into her eyes.

For an instant she thought he would tell her that he was sorry. That that was not the way to fix things, or that he had actually meant something else.

But he kissed her again, pressing her against him, laying her on the sofa, trailing his lips down her neck, whispering her name like a desperate mantra. She moaned in response, unable to believe that this was not one of her treacherous dreams that made her feel happy, only to wake her up alone and empty. This was not a dream, because Patrick's hands and lips were real, they were the usual ones, the only ones that had touched her, the only ones she wanted.

A last vestige of pride screamed at her to move away, that they still had to talk more, clarify things, that he should listen a lot before he had the right to touch her like that again. She pushed the thought away by kissing him, opening herself to him.

To speak, she could wait, for this, no. She had been wanting him for a long time, and she could not take another second without Patrick filling her, covering her with pleasure, assuring her that he was hers.

They barely took off some of their clothes, there was no time. Their union was quick and desperate, seeking, biting, needing.

When they came back to reality and looked at each other, agitated, they both smiled.

His arms trembled, holding his weight on her, and she ran a hand through the hair that fell on his forehead. He closed his eyes, smiling gratefully.

“Patrick,” she whispered, still gasping for air.

He opened his eyes, leaned down to kiss her sweetly on the lips.

“Yes, my love?”

“Take me to your bed.”

***

Shelagh stretched, all of her limbs groaned in pain. She opened her eyes, the morning light came through the window and the wind and the sea could be heard. She looked around the room, taking a few seconds to understand, until she felt a strong, thick hand on her waist, squeezing her.

“You're with me,” she heard in her ear, and smiled.

She turned her head to look at him, but he was already kissing her, cupping her chin. When he released her, she turned and hugged him.

“Patrick,” she said into his shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“Will you really come back with me?”

He sighed, pulled away to look at her.

“I’m here because I accepted a contract, so I have two months left to finish it.”

“But will you come back?”

“Yes,” he stroked her hair slowly, but suddenly complained, “Although, I think I'm too old for you. My whole body hurts.”

“Me too. We are two old fools. Or maybe this bed is too narrow.”

They giggled, Patrick pulling her closer to him. Shelagh followed his hand with her gaze, slowly caressing her shoulder, her arm, her waist. She trembled under his touch, as always.

“I will retire,” he announced, “I decided that this place will be the last thing I do, it’s very beautiful and people need medicine and science here, but they don’t need someone with my age. It’s necessary to be young and brave, and I’m not that anymore. So after thinking a lot, I decided. I don't know what I'll do next; I’ll probably bother you at home all day and…”

“Patrick I don't care if we keep fighting, as long as we're together.”

He gave a sad smile.

“We shouldn't fight, Shelagh. Things are not like that.”

She looked down at his chest, nodded. Once again, he was right. That they got back together did not ensure that everything was a bed of roses.

But they already had experience in that, because when they got married they believed that everything would be happiness and they immediately encountered obstacles, but then they triumphed. They could try again if they both wanted it.

“I know. We will work on that together, can it be? Without pressure, or hurtful words, or getting mad at anything silly.”

"Yes, we will." He leaned in to kiss her softly. "I promise."

She smiled, she believed in him. He was being serious.

He stroked her hair and she watched him. If before she found him young and happy, now he seemed radiant.

“My beautiful Shelagh,” he whispered, “I don't know how I could lose you.”

“You didn't lose me Patrick, I'm here,” she caressed his cheek, smiling at him, but he did not respond. He even pulled away a little, stopped looking at her.

“I promised never to hurt you, and I failed. I promised to always take care of you, and leave you,” suddenly he looked anguished and guilty. Shelagh moved closer, and leaned over him so he could see her.

“Patrick, I forgave you. And besides, I also failed many times; we both know that I’m not a saint or a perfect woman. We’re two, we both create problems, and we both forgive each other and start over.”

He smiled, touched her face.

“But Patrick, don't you ever tell me that I can't work, or study, or do what I...”

“Shhh...stop threatening me,” he interrupted, kissing her and rolling over her.

Shelagh pulled away.

“We must continue talking, do you understand?”

“Yes. We will do it. You will not be alone, we will do this together.”

She knew him, knew he was serious. She wanted to push him away to get up, but he held her back.

“Patrick is late; our children will arrive at any moment.”

“And? I'm sure they conspired to make all this happen. And I love them for it.”

She laughed.

“Yes, me too, and I think we owe them an apology.”

“Yes,” he stared at her, caressing her face. She barely kissed him, caressed his shoulders and his chest.

“You’re so handsome. An Adonis.”

He laughed out loud, pulling away from her.

“Shelagh you need to change the prescription of those glasses!”

“Why?” she leaned on one elbow, looking at him indignantly, “I only told the truth! You men get better when you get older, but the women, we are…!”

He did not let her finish, he was on her again, kissing and caressing her.

“You…you’re perfect,” she heard his hungry voice in her ear.

And she opened her arms, her legs, and her heart to receive him again.

***

“You won't dare to go into the water! You’re too cowardly!”

“You don't know me, Timothy Turner!”

Angela ran barefoot across the rocks and then into the water, backing away in shock as her siblings and parents laughed.

“Aggg is freezing!” she complained.

Her younger brother came over and gave her a shove, knocking her into the water. Angela screamed, and stood up, completely drenched and shivering, while Teddy and Timothy clashed their fists in celebration.

“You're two animals! The worst brothers I can have!”

“In that you’re wrong, Angela,” May threw sand at her and then also threw her into the water again.

“May!” Angela yelled, “Why are you betraying me like this?!”

Immediately, started a battle to see who would end up wetter and icy.

Shelagh stood up to end it all before someone got pneumonia, but Patrick's hand in hers stopped her.

“Let them,” he laughed

“But they will get sick.”

“Why do they have a doctor father and a nurse mother? Let them enjoy the privilege.”

She rolled her eyes, and when she sat back down on the rock she was on, he pulled her into his lap. She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his, still looking at her children.

“I think you're right,” she concluded when she saw them playing.

He looked at her, gave her a mischievous half smile.

“Is that Mrs. Turner who is saying that I am right?”

She rolled her eyes again, pretending to be exasperated.

“Yes, it's me.”

He laughed and she could not help herself. She took his chin and kissed him, he growled, deepening the kiss. She felt like she could not get enough of him, suddenly she was in love like a silly girl, although she suspected she had never stopped being like that for him.

“Iugh that's awful! They're already doing their mushy stuff” they listened to Teddy, and laughing, they parted.

“Shut up,” May chided him. The girl glanced at them, Shelagh saw a smirk.

“I don't know why you're complaining, you were supposed to be expecting something like this,” Shelagh said.

“Not specifically this,” Tim pretended disgust, though his eyes were sparkling.

“As if you don’t do the same with your girlfriend,” said Patrick.

“Aggg! You too, Tim?!” Teddy covered his eyes.

“At least he doesn't do it in front of us,” Angela said.

“Let Kate come visit us,” May grinned wickedly, “Then she and Tim and Mom and Dad will torture Teddy. Oh, and his two girlfriends too!”

“I don't have girlfriends!”

“Stop complaining and go play,” Patrick said, then looked at Shelagh, and stroked her cheek, “Leave me with your beautiful mother.”

Shelagh laughed, kissed him on the nose. When she knew that her children were far enough away, she kissed him on the mouth. Then she hugged him, closing her eyes.

“I will miss you in these two months.”

“And I much more to you. But they go by fast and then you'll want to kick me out of the house.”

“No,” she parted, “No, I won't.”

Patrick smiled at her, stroking her hair.

“I know I don't say it often, and maybe I should have told you many more times, or demonstrated so that you would never doubt. But I love you. I always loved you; I never loved anyone like I love you. And I wouldn’t exchange the privilege of loving you for nothing in the world.”

She hugged him tightly, though he complained, surely his joints tired from supporting her weight and sitting on a rock by the sea. But he did not seem to care, because he held her tighter, preventing her from moving away.

“And I love you too Patrick. Forever.”

When she pulled away, she saw tears in his eyes, and she kissed them. She snuggled against him, watching their children running down the beach.

She sighed satisfied.

There was pain, suffering, and resentment. But also there was, and would continue to be, a lot of love.

So again, they were on the right road.


	8. Epilogue

_May 1976_

Shelagh blinked at her cat's gaze. He seemed to have taken over of her, betraying his loyalty to Patrick. Now Mist spent the afternoons sitting next to her, or on her lap, letting himself be caressed, calming Shelagh's nerves with his soft purr.

He was looking at her in alert, perhaps sensing that his favorite person was more nervous than usual.

“What is it, little one?” she said, kissing his hairy forehead, “Am I upsetting you?”

“Who's upset here?” she heard Patrick's voice and turned to see him, and instantly felt relaxed, but even more when she saw him arrive with a cup of tea and a saucer of cake.

“I think I'm making Mist nervous.”

Patrick looked at the animal, feigning resentment.

“I don't want to know anything about traitors like him,” then, denying his words, he caress the cat and brought the cup closer to Shelagh, “Here you go, it is proven that sweet things can calm the nerves a bit.”

She smiled, and ate a little piece.

“It's delicious!”

“How are you doing?”

Shelagh sighed, looking at the books and papers scattered on the table. She felt nervous, confused, and completely defeated.

“I don’t remember anything.”

He took one of her hands, kissed it.

“You know everything, it is your nerves that prevent you from remembering it. Let's see,” he took one of the books, turned the pages.

Looking at him, Shelagh could not help but smile. She was not smiling only at him, but at her past, and at her future.

After his total retirement, Patrick was bored. He spent days walking around the house, aimlessly, and doing nothing but complain in silence.

She breathed in and out, counted to ten, recited psalms and hymns in her head, all of that many times, seeking patience. She knew that any word could detonate everything like a deposit of gunpowder, and if Patrick did not understand that, she was the one to do it.

She understood him, the same thing happened to her when she left her job as a nurse, and more than once she regretted having asked him so many times to retire, when clearly he was not prepared for it.

But after the shock of finding himself with nothing to do, Patrick began putting in practice his newfound culinary skills. He liked it and it distracting him, and his entire family appreciated that.

He seemed more upbeat, and stopping running after patients all day had improved his mood, and he seemed healthier.

But Shelagh did not smile at the cakes and cookies, or how funny and at the same time handsome her husband was with a cooking apron and flour in his hands.

Her final exams in the university became increasingly difficult, and despite the burden of that, she found that she enjoyed the process of studying immensely, because Patrick was there.

Together they shared a new activity: sitting together to read, take notes, talk, and exchange opinions. They did it before, but the difference now was that later, Patrick would take the books and make sure that she knew every important thing, helping her with the lessons, and helping her remember complicated concepts. And then they ended up chatting remembering the thousands of cases that together they had resolved.

It was something new and perhaps boring for most people, but one that had brought them much closer together.

She reached out and hugged him, and kissed his cheek. He put the book down, surprised, looking at her and asking wordlessly what was going on.

“Thank you,” she whispered back, and they began to read together.

***

The camera flash blinded her for a second. She did not like photographs very much, but this one was special, and around her, all her mates were smiling, posing for the final image.

She parted from them, greeting, and held tightly to the small piece of cardboard that assured, in neat and elegant letters, that she had finished her specialization "with honors."

She turned to her family, who were waiting at the end of the great auditorium. Angela and May had skipped their classes in order to attend the ceremony, and Teddy looked a bit tired after his sports class, but he was clean and smiling. Behind them, Patrick was looking at her proudly, smiling. She approached, but two teachers were ahead of her, and greeted her husband with great fuss. He returned their kindness, but immediately turned his attention to her.

“Congratulations mom!” May said, hugging her. Angela did the same.

Teddy smiled shyly at her, already too adolescent to feel safe with displays of affection. However, he handed her a small black box.

“I bought you this today, Mom.”

“A present for me?” she said taking the object.

“I don't know if you like them, I saw them and I thought...”

Shelagh opened the box, a pair of small earrings sparkled.

“Oh Teddy this is beautiful, but they seem very expensive!”

“No, well, yes but I liked them and...”

Shelagh hugged him and gave him a loud kiss on the cheek.

“My beautiful little man, thank you very much!”

“Oh mom,” he parted a little, but she kissed him again, to the delight and mockery of his sisters.

When she released her son, she looked at Patrick.

“Congratulations Shelagh,” he said putting a hand on her shoulder. Then he gave her a little kiss on her cheek and whispered in her ear, “I'm so proud of you. You're perfect.”

She felt herself blush, she was going to deny such a statement but he stopped her.

“No, don't say you're not. You can't go against what the university says, and they said you are. That certificate you have in your hand affirms it!”

"Okay, Patrick," she looked down, feeling embarrassed but also proud.

“Now we are all going to have dinner as a celebration.”

“Yes! Pizza!” yelled Teddy

“Teddy, is a good celebration, you will not pretend that we are going to eat at the grungy pizzeria you always want to go to,” May complained.

“It's true,” Patrick said, “We'll go to a very elegant restaurant that I already reserved.”

“But Patrick...”

“Shelagh, we must celebrate.”

She nodded, smiling. On her way to the exit, many people greeted her, including her teachers.

Dr. Staton even asked her to seriously think about being his assistant in obstetrics classes.

She was surprised by such a proposal. She never imagined that someone would be interested in having her at the university to teach. She thought it might be a joke, she even laughed a little nervously, but Staton remained serious.

“I mean it, Mrs. Turner,” the man affirmed.

Shelagh looked at her husband and children, immediately began to make mental calculations: how could she balance something else in her life?

She felt Patrick squeeze her hand as she opened her mouth, about to decline the offer.

She glanced at him, and then glanced at her teacher.

“I'll think about it, Dr. Staton.”

The man seemed satisfied with the answer.

“But don't take too long to think about it,” he said greeting them and walked away.

“Wow, mom will be a professor at the university!” exclaimed Teddy.

“Son, don't say that, I still don't know and...”

“You must give the worst grades to all,” laughed May, “The teachers enjoy doing it.”

“Oh, I couldn't...”

“Tim told us that you used to teach the nurses at Nonnatus, so you have experience.”

She smiled remembering those classes, and also her eldest son, too busy at work to attend this little celebration.

“I said I'll think about it, don't be hasty.”

Patrick squeezed her hand again, she smiled.

***

Indeed, the restaurant that Patrick chose was elegant and expensive, and she felt intimidated, as her children, but as the minutes and the food passed, they were relaxing and laughing, commenting on the great events of the day.

When they got home it was quite late, so the children went to sleep right away.

In the silence of the room, she began to process what had happened. She had a completed specialization, and she would go back to work, just part-time. She no longer felt stupid and a useless old woman, she had the knowledge and all the practice. Unfortunately she must to quit her job in the printing press, but Angela already had her pencils sharpened, ready to relieve her of the position and start making her own money.

Patrick came back from the bathroom, and that surprised her because she thought he was going to go to sleep, since he looked tired. But he took her hand and led her into the bedroom. There he sat her on the bed.

Shelagh looked at him, he was serious, he did not say a word.

“Patrick, is something wrong?”

He sat down next to her, took one of her hands and kissed it. It looked like he was going to say something, but Mist jumped on them and they shouted.

“It's incredible, not only I have to wait for my children to fall asleep to spend time with you, but I also have to fight with this cat,” Patrick took the animal, and lowered it from the bed. The cat walked away, offended, wagging its tail and meowing angrily.

“Leave him, poor thing.”

“You let him do what he wants; you treat him better than me.”

She laughed, shrugging.

“He wins my love because he’s very sweet.”

“Well, maybe I can win your love too,” he winked at her, but got serious. He took her fingers, playing with them. He looked worried, and that worried her too. Nothing had happened at dinner, or all day, that could bother him. Well, except for Staton's proposal, but Patrick seemed happy about it.

“Patrick?”

“Shelagh, I know I haven’t been the best husband...”

She frowned, and turned to see him fully.

“Patrick what do you say?”

“Since my retirement I’ve been the worst, don’t deny it.”

“Patrick...”

“It’s not necessary that you lie, I know that I was, and sometimes I am, quite irritable.”

“Well...yes, but I understand you. I, too, was irritable and nervous, and I haven't touched a saucepan or turned on the oven to make dinner in weeks, which I appreciate,” she laughed a bit, but he did not join in on her joke, “Patrick?”

“I've been thinking and...Since I'm retired and bored, and you've already finished university…Well, soon you will return to work and you will also teach...”

“Patrick I don't know if I'll do that, besides Staton said it just because, he sure tells everyone the same.”

“...you will also teach at the university...” he repeated, this time with a mischievous smile forming on his face.

“What's up with all that?” she said trying to make him leave the suspense and also his serious and at the same time cheerful face that completely disconcerted her.

“I have savings, and added to everything I said before, I decided that we do something else together,” he finished, squeezing her hand.

She looked at him, raising her eyebrows. She did not understand where all this conversation was going. In her mind she went over the night, they drank wine, but not so much that he ended up drunk.

Patrick reached over to his nightstand, opened the drawer, and took something out. He turned to Shelagh and handed her a large white envelope. She looked at it, then looked at him, who shook the envelope, urging her to take it.

She took it carefully, and just as carefully opened it. Inside were papers, which she took out. Patrick turned on the bedside table light so she could see better.

“What is...?” she started to say, before reading. Then she realized what it was about, “Airplane tickets?”

She looked at him, not understanding. She still had the horrible memory of Patrick telling her he was going to the Outer Hebrides, so seeing him behaving strangely and then seeing some plane tickets did not calm her down at all.

“What is this, Patrick?” her voice came out harsh, anticipating anything that might crash into her.

“I chose France and Italy, I know you always wanted to know those places, but if you don't want to, we can change and we will go wherever you want. Or we can do something else,” he said hastily, suddenly he seemed as embarrassed and childlike as Teddy.

Shelagh opened her mouth, realizing that what was happening was nothing bad, but an extension of the happiness she had experienced that day.

She reached out to caress his face, drawing closer to him.

“Patrick?” she whispered. He shook his head, still staring at the ground.

“Maybe I rushed, and didn’t think well. It was an idea I had, and I think I was wrong not to consult you, after all it’s a lot of money and...Sorry. We said we will talk about everything, and you see, I...”

Shelagh cut him off, throwing herself at him, hugging him.

“Patrick! It’s beautiful! Thank you! Thank you!”

“Are you serious?” he pulled away from her arms, still looking worried, “We can do something else, or nothing, or...”

“No! I want to travel with you! Your idea is great.”

“I promise I won't be bothering you. And that I'll take you for a walk, I'll take pictures of you and I won't complain all the time that my knee hurts and…”

Shelagh silenced his spiel with a kiss.

She broke away, laughing though he still did not seem convinced of her answer.

“Shelagh, I promise I'll buy you nice dresses and...” she interrupted him again with a kiss, just to leave him continue with his list of promises, “And we will also have ice cream, do you know that in Italy there are the best ice creams in the world...?” another kiss, “And I'll buy you shoes,” another kiss, “perfumes,” another kiss, “and I'll ask you to marry me again.”

Shelagh released him.

“What did you say?”

“God, the first time I was a disaster because, who asks for marriage in a kitchen? And now I could do better but I hurried.”

“What did you say?” A smile began to form on her face, but she was determined to let him speak.

“Oh it's just a very cheesy idea that I came up with. But you know, it's kind of silly because we're already married and it doesn't make sense.”

“Say it.”

“What thing?”

“Say it. Ask me.”

“Oh no, the idea was in Paris, with the Eiffel Tower, and all that they do in the movies.”

“Ask me now, Patrick. In Paris you can do it again if you want.”

He denied, giggling a little, but taking one of her hands.

“Will you marry me, Shelagh?”

She made a face.

“Mm…let me think about it...”

“Oh no, Shelagh!” He complained releasing her, but she hugged him, throwing him on the bed, laughing and kissing him, this time deeply.

He groaned, pulled her against him, but she pulled away, just to whisper in his ear.

“Yes, I want to marry you. Here, in Paris, and on the moon if possible. Now and always.”

He kissed her sweetly, then hugged her and kissed her hair.

“Then we will go on a trip,” he said after a few seconds of silence.

She just smiled, kissed his chest and hugged him closer.

Suddenly she could not hold back her tears. Maybe it was all the emotion of the day, or maybe it was because she was grateful, and at the same time she still could not believe that they were just hating each other for so long, without having a minimum gesture of love between them.

Now it was all a bad memory, a lesson learned with blows.

She sat down and took off her glasses, wiped her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she whispered, smiling at him. He looked at her worriedly, he also sat down next to her.

“Shelagh, did I say something wrong? Don't you want to go?”

“I don't cry about that, you fool,” more tears came out, she felt like an idiot, but she let herself be hugged by him, “I'm just very happy.”

“Do I really make you happy, Shelagh?”

She nodded.

“Yes, a lot. I know that we still have our problems, many things happened and sometimes it’s inevitable not to remember them but...I love you.”

He stroked her hair, and kissed her temple. She felt calm, happy. It seemed like everything that happened for months, it was just a nightmare of one night.

If they hurt each other, yelled at each other, spat out words just to bother each other and separated because of their problems, today because of those same problems, they were together.

And the future looked astonishingly wonderful.

“I love you too, Shelagh," she heard his voice in her ear, and closed her eyes.

What more could she ask for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this is so silly, but I wanted Shelagh to fulfill her dreams. Also, they fought throughout the fanfic, they needed some happy moments to assure us that things will go well!  
> If you got this far, and you endured my delay in updating and my mistakes with English, you should know that I thank you infinitely!


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